The Chronicles of the Fellowship
by Michael Weyer
Summary: One year after coming back from the wardrobe, the children are called to a different land and the quest to destroy a dark Ring. Narnia/LOTR crossover. Now Completed.
1. Called to a New Land

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Lord of the Rings created by J.R.R. Tolkien, film rights by New Line Cinema

The Chronicles of Narnia created by C.S. Lewis, film rights by Walden Media and Walt Disney Pictures

This popped into my mind after seeing "Prince Caspian." First, some may notice similarities to INMH's excellent "The Hobbit, The Ring and the Fellowship" which I greatly enjoyed. I did write to him first to tell him about this tale and he approved majorly. As you can see, it takes a different tack and as these are the more experienced version of the children, a few new shifts here and there. Seeing as how Lewis and Tolkien were friends and the films are so popular, the pairing fits better than you expect. All comments welcomed.

**Called to a New Land**

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_There are lands within lands. Worlds within worlds. Worlds between worlds. Worlds where life is much different than the one you know. Lands often considered myth and fantasy but are as real as the world around you. Sometimes, the barriers between these worlds weakens enough to let travelers cross through. Such as with the Penesieves, four children from a land called London who, in the space of a minute in their land, ruled for years as kings and queens of a land called Narnia._

_For a year, they have been home. Well, the home they once knew although in their hearts, Narnia is home as well. But now, the call has come for them. The call of a land in need. The call of a land who desires the aid only these four can give them._

_But as said before, there are many worlds out there and more than one requires champions…_

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As her eyes cleared from the rush of wind and light, Lucy Pevensie felt a smile come to her face. One smell was enough to tell her this was no longer London or Earth for that matter. The air was so crisp and clear, the light breeze feeling cool as she looked about her. Her siblings were joining in with similar expressions of wonder and hole on their own faces.

"Are we…back?" Edmund asked, pulling the cap off his head. His school uniform seemed out of place now, more even when he had put it on. It was in slightly better shape than Peter's, which still showed the dirt of the fight he'd gotten into on the platform before the train arrived.

"It's not London, that's for certain," Peter stated. He glanced around, his eyes taking in their surroundings. "It could be Narnia."

"If it is, it seems like winter," Susan said with a shiver as she looked up, shuffling her school jacket tighter over her, feeling the breeze kick at her exposed legs. "Oh my."

The others joined her, heads craning up to see a huge mountain rising roughly a mile away. Its peak was hundreds of feet overhead with snow atop it. It led off to a pathway near piles of rocks and a clutter of trees. "That doesn't look familiar," Edmund noted.

Susan looked away from it toward the ground around them and her eyes widened. "But those do." She moved toward a large grouping of rocks nearby, the others following her. Four neat piles were laid out before them, each containing a set of clothing and some other items.

"My sword!" Peter noted as he looked at his. "And my old leather armor."

Susan held up her bow and quiver of arrows along with a red dress with a leather jerkin. "It would appear we were expected."

"Aslan," Lucy smiled as she looked at the vial by her own dress. "It must have been Aslan who did this!"

"Maybe," Susan said, her lips pursed in doubt. As usual, she was always willing to be a bit more sensible and take all the information in before jumping to any conclusions. "But something about this just…doesn't feel right."

"Honestly, Su, you have to be a glass half-empty all the time?" Edmund complained as he hefted his own shield and sword. "How else could these have come here?"

"I'm just saying something about this feels wrong."

"We can figure that out later," Peter said. "For now, it looks like whoever left these for us wanted us to use them. We might as well oblige."

It took a few minutes for the change to be completed. Fortuitously (or perhaps not given how they had arrived here), there was a small cave in the rocks for them to change, placing their old clothes into the small bags they had carried when they had arrived. Edmund and Peter wore matching outfits of light pants, shirt and tunics with leather jerkins, their swords at their sides and shields hefted onto their backs. Susan's dress was a light purple with its own leather jerkin while Lucy had a much lighter orange and yellow dress that set her off well with a shawl around her neck.

"I'm not comfortable with this," Susan remarked.

"Miss the fancy dresses already?" Edmund teased.

Susan glared at him. "It feels like I'm being prepared for battle."

"She does have a point," Peter mused as he examined his sword. "It makes this all the more curious."

"Well, we seem set," Edmund decided. "What now?"

Peter glanced up at the cloudy sky. "It looks like nightfall soon. As soon as we see the stars, we should be able to tell our directions to Cair Paravel. We can find answers there."

"I hope so," Susan sighed as she sat on the rock and glanced back at the large mountain. "I don't recall seeing a mountain like that before in Narnia."

"We didn't see the whole world, Su," Lucy pointed out. "In fact, it's possible we're in a part of Narnia no one has ever explored before."

"I hope that's it," Edmund said with a frown. "Otherwise…"

Peter looked at him. "What is it?"

Edmund bit his lip. "Well…remember how we spent twenty years here and when we came back, it was only a few minutes?" As the others nodded, Edmund took a breath. "Well, if that's the case…how much time could have passed in Narnia when it's been a year in London?"

The other three grew grave as they took in the implications of what he was saying. "It could be decades," Susan said gravely. "Even…centuries."

"Mr. Tumnus," Lucy said, her eyes watering. "The beavers…everyone we knew could be long gone by now."

Edmund nodded to the mountain. "And for all we know, that's some hill we saw a hundred times grown somehow over the years."

Peter saw the worry on his sister's faces and felt the need to soothe them. "That's just conjecture for now. We wait until we see the stars and figure out from there."

Susan pursed her lips but she recognized the look in her brother's eye. When Peter had his mind set like this, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. And waiting for the stars did make sense. She examined her bow carefully as Lucy sat next to her. Her young sister smiled. "It is good to be back, no matter what time has passed."

Susan couldn't help but smile at her sister's constant optimism. "You always look at the bright side, Lucy. Especially with him."

Lucy shrugged. "I just believe is all. We all do. You do."

"I suppose," Susan acknowledged. She took a deep breath as she glanced at the sky, the sun fading away at last. "I guess I'm still…angry. Oh, don't look at me like that, Lucy, I know you felt it too. We'd become so committed to ruling Narnia, to living there, being among the people and then to have it all wrenched away and back to our old bodies, our old lives…" She sighed. "I just keep wondering what we did wrong."

"Maybe we didn't do anything wrong," Lucy said. "Maybe it was meant to be that way. I know it doesn't seem fair, Susan but even Narnia isn't always perfect. And if there's one thing we know about Aslan, he does have a plan with whatever he does, even if we can't see it."

Susan smiled at her again. "You are going to be a force when you grow up."

"I was grown up," Lucy smiled back. "And taller than you then, if you'll recall."

Susan's laugh was cut short by a sound not far away. She listened, sobering as she heard footsteps on gravel. The others heard it too, all instantly alert, Peter moving forward with his sword drawn. "Stay here," he ordered the two girls as he walked toward the small incline nearby where the mountain tapered off into the ground. Edmund was behind him, letting his brother take the lead while Susan draped a protective arm around Lucy.

As he heard the footsteps growing closer, Peter took a deep breath. Despite the oncoming possible danger, he couldn't help but feel an exhilaration. This is what he had missed. After so long dealing with the mundane, with school, with people talking down to him as a child, this was something he could really sink his teeth into. He tried to keep his senses alert as she knelt at the side of the pathway, Edmund next to him.

They watched as the footsteps grew closer, indicating a large group. The first man in the lead was tall and appeared to be in his late thirties or even early forties. He was dressed in black clothing with both a bow and a sword strapped to his back, his dark face marked by a beard and piercing dark eyes. His dark hair was unkempt but something about him made him a man worth watching. He was followed by a man dressed in more elegant clothing not too dissimilar from the boys' own. Leather pants and a leather jerkin top with a long leather cloak around him, a shield on his back with a sword at his side. Around his neck was a long horn of some sort. He appeared the same age as the first man, his hair and beard lighter and carried himself with a more regal bearing.

Edmund leaned in to whisper to his brother. "We'd best stay here, let them pass by before…"

The man in the lead suddenly whirled around, his sword yanked out of its scabbard, his eyes flickering right to their position. The other man seemed startled but quickly took out his own sword and moved his gaze to the same direction. Before Edmund could react, Peter had jumped to his feet and was moving forward with his sword swinging. The dark-garbed man blocked the blow and its follow-up.

"Aragon!" the other man called out, about to move to help when he saw Edmund coming in. Edmund held back, his sword raised but not moving to attack just yet, mentally cursing his brother's impatience. His opponent raised an eyebrow, Edmund deciphering his motion as "I don't attack you, you don't attack me," and nodded slowly.

Peter continued to swing his sword, the memories of years of practices and battles coming back to him. His parents had been rather surprised when he wanted to take fencing lessons but they were paying off here as he blocked one of the man's attacks, twisting his sword and trying to stab outward. The man dodged it and punched Peter in the face, causing him to back off with a stunned head.

Edmund saw two more figures running down the pathway. One was short but had the features of a man of age, his wrinkled face marked by a large nose and a long brown beard. His squat frame was clad in dark leather armor of some sort with a large helmet on his head, the axe in his hands almost as big as he was. Peter knew this had to be a dwarf.

The other figure was the one truly catching his attention. He was a tall man with a young face and long lush blond hair dressed in a green outfit that reminded Edmund so much of the stories he'd read of Robin Hood. The similarity was enhanced by the bow the man was lifting up, an arrow drawn back and ready to fly at the two figures ahead. "Peter!" Edmund yelled in warning.

Peter broke away from the fight, turning to see the archer before him. Thankfully, he was wise enough to realize the disadvantage and backed up a bit, sweat on his face. The black-garbed man did not appear tired at all as he backed up, the archer moving ahead, his arrow still drawn at Peter. "Keep him covered, elf," the dwarf growled out. "I'm assuming you can do that at least.

Peter and Edmund exchanged a surprised look and mouthed "Elf?" at each other. Looking closer, Edmund could see a pair of pointed ears poking out of the man's long hair. The figure gave the slightest of glares toward the dwarf, yet seemed fixed upon Peter and Edmund. "I can have them both down before you draw another breath, dwarf."

"You do and neither of you will be drawing breaths," a strong female voice cut through the air. Susan stepped forward, his own bow drawn and aimed right at Legolas. Lucy was right behind her, her small dagger in her hands, trying not to look as afraid as she felt. Despite all she'd been through, battles were still something she wasn't comfortable with.

A long silence fell over the area as the stand-off became clear. There was the sound of more footsteps and then a strong voice booming out. "What is going on?"

The four children watched as a tall man in grey robes and a long floppy grey hat came tromping down the pathway, a long staff in his hands. His face was lined and marked with a long grey beard and an aged face that still retained a warm feeling to it. He leaned on the staff as he gazed at the children, his face more curious than wary. "And what do we have here?"

"They attacked us," the dark-garbed man said in a voice that matched his bearing.

"Peter," Susan moaned, although she kept her bow aimed still.

"I thought they were enemies!" her bother defended himself. "We are in a strange situation, as you know!"

Susan rolled her eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if your brain degressed along with your body when we came back."

"Are things all right then?" The voice came from behind the grey-robed man, the first of four figures coming forward. At first, the siblings thought they were children until they saw the faces of twenty-somethings. They thought then they were dwarves but the lack of beards disapproved that theory. Each was clad in matching dark clothing of pants, shirts and vests with cloaks. They had similar builds and curly hair with pointed ears. A glance at their feet showed they did not wear shoes but seemed to have fur covering the top side to their toes. The one who spoke had a friendly face but troubled eyes as he took in the scene.

"We are solving that ourselves," the grey-haired man told him. He turned back to the siblings and straightened himself. "I suppose killing strangers is rude, if nothing else. I am Gandalf the Grey." He nodded to the dark-haired man. "That is Aragon, son of Arathon. The other man is Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor." He glanced to the elf who still kept his bow raised. "Legolas of the Woodland Realm and the dwarf is Gimli, son of Gloin."

He motioned to the four small figures behind him. "And these are our hobbit friends, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Merry and Pippen." Each nodded and gave a small wave.

"Hobbits?" Edmund frowned. "What's a hobbit?"

"You may have heard them referred to as Haflings," Gandalf said. Seeing the children frown, he shook his head. "Well, that's for later then. And whom might you be?"

The siblings looked at each other before Peter took a step forward, raising himself up and speaking in a proud and clear voice. "I am His Majesty King Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion. This is my brother, King Edmund and our sisters, Queen Lucy and Queen Susan." His introduction completed, he stepped back to await their reactions.

They were not what he expected. Aragon and Boromir exchanged baffled glances. Gimli just pursed his lips while Legolas appeared confused. The confusion spread to the hobbits, who shared looks of their own while Gandalf appeared thoughtful. None of them gave any recognition whatsoever at the name of Narnia. That alone gave the children a shared sinking in their stomachs.

"Narnia…" Gandalf murmured, biting his lip thoughtfully. "Narnia…I cannot say I recognize that country."

"Nor do I," Aragon said.

"What about London?" Lucy called out. "England? Great Britain? Earth?" Her voice trailed off at the baffled looks on their faces. "Oh, no."

"Well, this is Middle-Earth," the one hobbit identified as Pippin spoke up. "Is that close enough?"

"Damn," Edmund muttered under his breath. "I hate being right."

"Good thing you rarely are," Susan couldn't help saying.

"Wait," Aragon said. "I thought you said you were from Narnia. What is this London?"

"Well, it's a bit complicated," Peter said. "We are from London originally but we found a gateway to Narnia which is…well, another world."

"We aided them in defeating the White Witch," Lucy said with growing excitement. "And then we spent years as kings and queens there before we went back through the wardrobe and were back to our old selves."

"Wardrobe?" Boromir raised his eyebrows.

"It's how we got to Narnia," Lucy explained as if it was perfectly logical. "But it didn't work later. We thought that was that but then we were at the train station waiting for school and something…pulled us over here."

"Wait a moment," Gimli rumbled. "You're saying you spent years as kings and queens?"

"We did," Peter confirmed, pride in his voice.

"But we sort of, ah, de-aged when we came back," Edmund said. "See, time passes differently in Narnia than in our world. You could be there years and come back and it's only been minutes."

"I…see," Gandalf said. He looked to Boromir and Aragon and nodded his head to the side. The two men moved toward him, off from the rest of the group, out of earshot. Gandalf glanced at the children as he spoke. "Opinions, gentlemen?"

"I'll give them credit," Boromir said wryly. "They're either the worst spies I've ever seen or the most inventive."

Aragon nodded. "That tale is so outlandish, you cannot help but believe it. And Sauraman does not strike me as the type to use children for his goals."

"No," Gandalf murmured, stroking his beard. "He was never fond of children even before he turned." He studied the four again. "There is something about them…the touch of magic although different than what I am used to."

"The elder, Peter, is a warrior," Aragon noted. "I sense that with his brother and elder sister as well. The younger is stronger than she seems."

"If we believe their tale, they were brought here," Boromir said. "More magic?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf said. He slowly nodded. "Very well, if they choose to go their own way, we shall let them. If they instead join us, we accept them."

"But mention nothing of the Ring," Aragon quickly said. "Not until we are sure they can be trusted." The other two nodded as they headed back to the group.

"My apologies," Gandalf said. "If I may ask, what are your plans?"

The siblings looked at each other, struck by the question. "I…am not certain," Peter said. "If this is truly not Narnia…Then I don't know why we're here or how to get home."

"Well, you could come with us!" Pippin piped up with a wide grin. "We can use the help! And the company! And the…" He stopped as Merry jabbed him in the side with an elbow. "What was that for?"

"Where are you all going?" Susan asked, taking in the odd group.

"Oh, we're…" Pippin was stopped by Sam slapping a hand over his mouth.

"It's….a secret mission," Frodo stated, catching the warning look Gandalf was giving him. "And a dangerous one."

"We can handle danger," Peter said with pride in his voice. "If you'll have us…we'll join you."

"Peter," Susan muttered to her brother. "What are you doing?"

"It's not like we have many other options, Su," he whispered back. "This isn't Narnia, we have no idea where we are."

"Or who to trust," she pointed out, glancing at the group.

"All the more reason to stick with a large group," Peter said. "It's my decision, Susan." He turned, indicating the conversation was done which earned a scowl at his back. "At your leave, sir."

Gandalf the Grey nodded as the Fellowship of the Ring grew to four more pieces of royalty.


	2. Meetings and Mines

Chronicles of the Fellowship

Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Meetings and the Mines**

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It didn't take long for the Pensevies to figure out the various characters of their new companions. Aragon was cool and always intent and serious, eyes looking about constantly as if expecting danger at any moment. Boromir was much the same although there seemed a tension between the two men. Legolas appeared only slightly more relaxed, his own eyes alert. Gimli was a gruff fellow that reminded Peter of some of the centaurs they had known in Narnia.

For the hobbits, Frodo and Sam seemed friendly while Merry and Pippen struck the group as somewhat childish. Naturally, Lucy got along with them very well. As for Gandalf, he wasn't as gruff as he first seemed, almost grandfatherly. He reminded the siblings much of Professor Kirke, not talking down to him but seemed very interested in hearing of Narnia and London equally.

"Aslan," he muttered after Peter had told them of the lion. "Aslan…I have heard that name somewhere…." He rubbed his chin. "Hmmm…it sounded familiar, just cannot place it. I'm so bad with names sometimes…"

Edmund brushed that aside as he looked the elder man over. "So you're a wizard then? Hmm….we don't know too many of those in Narnia…and, no offense, but the ones we have generally are the bad sort."

Gandalf made a warm smile. "I apologize for that. But there are good and bad wizards, just as there are good and bad people." His face soured. "And there are those who begin on one side and fall to another."

Peter frowned, confused at that but decided not to press it. "If you'll pardon my saying, sir, things appear rather…tense with you all."

"It is a dark time for our land, my young friend," Gandalf said, his face still drawn. "A time of darkness much of the world is still unaware of but that awareness is spreading. While I cannot go into details, suffice to say that our mission is of utmost importance to the future of this world."

Peter and Edmund gave each other looks as if saying "here we go again." Behind them, Susan became aware of a pair of eyes burning at her back and turned to glace at Legolas. "May I help you?" she asked in a tone more biting than she intended.

"I was admiring your bow," the elf said. "I've never seen its type of craftsmanship before."

"It was made in Narnia," Susan said. "A gift from…a great man."

Legolas nodded. "I hope you are able to use it well."

"I've had no complaints," she snapped at him. "But if you press me, I'll show you how well I can use it on a rather noisy target." She picked up her pace to walk off.

Legolas frowned and heard a gruff sound next to him. He looked down to see Gimli chuckling. "Something funny, dwarf?"

Gimli smirked up at him. "Simply a relief to know how you elves can be as foolish with the ladies as anyone else." He chuckled more at the glare Legolas fixed on him.

In the rear of the company, Lucy was watching Merry and Pippin energetically waving their arms as they tried to explain the ways and lives of hobbits. It was a rather complicated history, particularly when they went into the various family trees that interconnected often. She had to smile at the way the two jabbered on about it with so much life and energy. Sam seemed to roll his eyes at some of their talk while Frodo just smiled.

"Now, should you come by the east side of the Shire," Merry said. "You'd enjoy some lovely farmlands."

"Excellent selection of carrots and mushrooms there," Pippin chimed in.

"Which you two love stealing," Sam stated. "Best be careful, Lucy, these two will talk you into all sorts of trouble before you know it."

"Hey, we're not that bad!" Merry said.

"Yes, you are," Sam said. "Right, Mr. Frodo?"

"I'm staying out of this one," the other hobbit said. "I've got enough on my head without getting into that." The man seemed friendly enough but Lucy sensed something about him, a great weight pressing in. That seemed to grow as he rubbed at his chest as if feeling something under that coat of his.

Up ahead, Peter glanced toward Aragon. "Just where are we going anyway?" He had noted how the group were making their way into a dark valley, a large lake at one side and a huge mountain next to them.

"To the Mines of Moria," the man answered, his tone letting Peter know he wasn't pleased with the journey.

"Why there?"

"It's the quickest path to our destination."

"Which is?"

Aragon glanced to Edmund. "Is your brother always this inquisitive?"

"Not always," Edmund said. "He's just used to always getting his way. Even when he shouldn't act that way."

Peter glared at him. "I don't always…"

"You do," Edmund cut him off. "Not just in Narnia, Peter but back home, you kept throwing your weight around."

"I don't like people treating me like a kid."

"You are a kid, Pete."

"Not always and neither were you! We were kings, Edmund."

"I know, Peter," his brother sighed. "But that was a while ago and quite frankly, our royalty means less here than in London."

"It's still who we are, who we truly are," Peter argued. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen. Aslan himself said that."

"Aslan?" Aragon asked.

"It's…complicated," Peter said, throwing Edmund a warning look.

Instead of accepting it, his brother scoffed. "What, we're trying to out-secret them?"

"They don't need to know, Ed."

"You don't know they don't need to know, Pete."

"I do and I'm High King."

"Oh, here we go…"

Boromir smirked as he leaned in to Aragon. "Whatever else these two are, they're definitely siblings. Only true brothers bicker like this."

"Will you two please be quiet!" Susan called out as she strode up behind them. "Honestly, kings, both of you and you still act like you did as children!"

"We are…"

"Shut up, Edmund," the two elder siblings chorused.

Gandalf closed his eyes as if pained. "The only thing more annoying than hobbits. Human children."

Things quieted down as the group came to a flat section of wall near the lakeside. "Where are these mines you talk of?" Peter asked. "I don't see any entranceway."

"You won't, laddie," Gimli stated. "We dwarves hide them so trespassers cannot find them."

"Indeed," Gandalf said as he stepped up to take the lead in the group. "Dwarves ensure that they cannot be found by anyone."

"Why does that not surprise me," Legolas muttered under his breath.

Lucy looked to Sam. "I assume elves and dwarves don't get along well?"

He gave her look of surprise. "You really aren't from around here, are you?"

Gandalf finally stopped before a blank section of rock, tapping the end of his staff against it. "Dwarf doors are hidden until moonlight…" He looked upward and watched as the clouds in the night sky passed on, allowing the moon to shine down. The rocks appeared to shimmer before images and symbols started to appear. They glowed brightly as if lit from within, forming an archway and a door.

"Clever," Peter had to note as the group formed behind Gandalf. "What do those symbols say?"

"'The Doors of Druin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter,'" Gandalf answered. "A simple feat, you speak the right password, it identifies you as a friend and we can enter." He turned around, lifting his hands and boomed out in words none of the children could understand. There was a long silence, everyone waiting for the door to open.

"Nothing's happened." Despite having just met him, Edmund realized that Pippin had a gift for stating the obvious.

Gandalf frowned and spoke again, the words different as he placed the end of the staff on the center of the doorway. Again, nothing happened. He moved in, pressing his shoulder to the rock as if he could move the solid face aside. He muttered something under his breath as he studied the door again, obviously flustered by his failure.

"What are you going to do then?" Pippin asked.

"Knock your head against them, Peregrin Took!" Gandalf snapped at him. "And if that doesn't break them down, it will at least save me from foolish questions!"

"There's no need to be angry with him," Susan said. "Just because you're having difficulties with getting in…"

"Maybe you can use Peter's head instead," Edmund said, trying to lighten the mood. "It could use some deflating anyhow." He let out a yell as Peter punched him in the arm. Gandalf ignored them, focusing on the doors as Susan forcibly broke the two brothers apart.

For the next half hour, everyone sat around, waiting while Gandalf ran one word after another in what sounded like at least three different languages, with no effect at all. Finally, the wizard appeared ready to give up, backing to a set of rocks nearby with a look on his face that reminded Lucy of the time the beavers had found their storehouse ransacked by foxes.

Edmund sighed as he moved toward the water's edge where Aragon and Boromir were. The light-haired man was smiling at him. "Sibling rivalry?" he asked, remembering the earlier conflict between Edmund and Peter.

"Ever have an older brother?" Edmund asked.

"No, just my younger, Faramir," Boromir answered. "He is still at our home of Gondor, aiding our armies in defending the city. We actually get along fairly well." His face darkened. "Better then with Father."

"Your father's a strict sort?" Edmund asked.

"Not so much with me," Boromir said as the two sat by some rocks, Aragon nearby. "Our mother died when we were young and since then, Father has treated me well, putting me on a pedestal at times, ignoring my faults. I confess, when I was younger, it felt good but as time has gone, it's…well, gotten frankly troubling."

"What about Faramir?" Edmund asked.

Boromir sighed. "That's the truly troubling part. Just as Father refuses to see my faults, he also refuses to see Faramir's strengths. He is a good man, a brave warrior, as capable as I but in Father's eyes, he can do nothing right and I can do no wrong." He shook his head. "I try to ignore it, I've berated Father about it but he continues it. I would much rather he be on this quest than I but Father insisted I could succeed more."

Edmund was quiet, picking up a rock and playing with it in his hands. "Our father is…" He paused. "In our world, where we live, there's a war on. A big one, almost every nation on Earth is involved." That got the attention of the two men. "Our father is a soldier in it. He writes but it's hard and every time the mailman comes, I can see Mother tensing, wondering if she's going to get the telegram that he…" He drifted off, unable to say it. "I guess Peter's trying to be more of the man of the house, to protect us all. I can't totally blame him for it but sometimes, he gets too big and doesn't think before he acts."

Boromir smiled. "Well, then…perhaps your task can be to reign him in."

"No, that's Susan's job," Edmund lightly said with a smile, creating a chuckle from Boromir.

Aragon had moved over to where Peter was standing by the rocks, impatiently looking at Gandalf. The wizard was sitting on a rock, his hat off, obviously mulling the problem with Frodo sitting across from him. Peter glanced at Aragon dismissively before going back to studying his sword. The man looked at Peter carefully before speaking. "A hard duty, being a king."

Peter looked over the man's dark and rumbled clothing and his unkempt appearance. "You don't appear an expert on it."

"You would be surprised," Aragon said. He paused again before speaking. "I do know that being king does not mean you take on everything yourself. It also means being wise enough to know that sometimes it's better to withdraw than to charge in."

Peter glared at him as he sheathed his sword. "When you wear a crown, then perhaps you can dictate advice to me." He walked off as Aragon shook his head at him. The Ranger looked over to see the Hobbits tossing pebbles across the pond and quickly moved in.

Pippin was just pulling his hand back to throw a pebble when Aragon caught it. "Do not disturb the water," he hissed.

"Why?" Susan asked. "What do you see?" The man did not answer but merely backed up. Susan frowned at the Hobbits. "Just who is he, anyhow?"

"Strider?" Merry said. "Well, he's a Ranger, sort of a wandering warrior type."

"But more than that!" Pippin piped up. "He's a king!"

Susan's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

"Not a true king," Merry said, giving his friend an annoyed look. "But he's the descendent of Isildur and as such, he's the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor."

Susan frowned, her mind running through the information she'd been able to glean so far. "I thought Boromir's father was in charge at Gondor."

"He's the Steward of the Throne." Susan jumped as Boromir came up behind her. "The line of rule was broken a long time ago and the Steward is meant to oversee the throne and await the return of the true king." His face darkened. "But many came to believe long ago that the king would never return. I'm sad to say Father is one of them."

"And you?" Susan asked pointedly. The man gazed at her before turning back which she took as an answer.

Lucy walked over toward the doorway, studying it before stopping by Frodo. "So it says, 'speak friend and enter?'"

Gandalf just grunted at her as he took a drag on the long pipe in his mouth.

"What version of 'friend' are you using?" The wizard looked at her, confused and she went on. "I mean, I know you had to go through it because that's what it is, 'friend' is the password. I was just curious if you used the right language."

The look of utter surprise on Gandalf's face let Lucy know that the wizard honestly had never considered such an obvious answer. Lucy had to suppress a sigh, wondering once again why grown-ups always had to overcomplicate things and overlook the simplest ways. Frodo seemed to get her much faster as he asked "What's the elven word for friend?"

"Mellon."

At Gandalf's word, there was a rumble that got the entire Fellowship's attention. The doorway slowly began to split apart and a musty odor flowed out of the opening of the cavern. "Finally!" Susan called out as she stood up with the rest, heading toward the opening. Peter was quickly moving to the front but Gimli actually pushed him aside as they headed into the dark cavern.

"Not very hospitable," Peter noted. "Hmm…anyone got a torch?"

"Actually, yes," Edmund stated as he rummaged through the small pack he'd carried from the train station when they'd been transported to Middle-Earth. Pulling out his torch, he flipped the switch and let a beam of light shine out.

"Blimey, he's a wizard!" Sam called out, startled.

Edmund chuckled. "No, just good old-fashioned British workmanship." He shone the light about, letting them see the dim interior of broken rock steps and dirt floors. Gimli took a deep breath and smiled. "Ah, nothing like a mine to bring back great memories for a dwarf."

Edmund was quiet as he swung the torch around, catching sight of forms on the floor. Gimli didn't notice, continuing to talk. "Soon, my friends, you'll be enjoying the hospitality of my cousin, Balin, lord of Moria! Roaring fires, malt beer…"

Susan coughed meaningfully.

"For the adults," Gimli hastened to say. "Ripe meat off the bone, a feast only we dwarves can supply!" He laughed as they walked on. "And they call it a mine…a mine!"

Edmund's light fell on a set of bodies lying on the floor, arrows sticking out of them. "This is no mine," Boromir breathed. "It's a tomb!"

Susan gasped as her eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting of the torch and the moonlight filtering from outside. Right before her was a small body literally pinned to the wall by a large spear with arrows in his chest as well. Lucy let out a small cry of her own as her foot landed right on the bony arm of a strange creature also pierced with arrows. The torch swung wildly around to let them all see the room littered with more bodies of various types, all having clearly died violently.

Gimli's joy evaporated in an instant as he took it all in. "No…NO!" He cried out as he raced over to gaze at his fallen kinsmen. Legolas yanked an arrow out of one body and studied it. "Goblins!" he declared.

Immediately, the men had pulled their swords out while Legolas nocked an arrow to his bow. "We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir declared. "We should never have come here."

Lucy was swallowing as he backed up to the doorway with the hobbits. Without warning, she felt something snaking around her left ankle. At first, she thought it was one of the hobbits until she felt herself yanked back. She screamed out, grabbing at the dirt but couldn't stop herself. She heard a cry next to her and saw Frodo always being pulled. Glancing down, Lucy saw what looked like a thick rope wrapped around their feet, dragging them back.

"LUCY!" Susan screamed out just as Sam yelled "FRODO!" Aragon, Boromir, Edmund and Peter whirled around to see the two pulled and started running to help them. The other hobbits were trying to grab onto them but failing as they kept on being dragged to the lake. Sam had pulled out a small short to hack at what now appeared to be a tentacle of some sort wrapped around Frodo while Merry and Pippin both grabbed Lucy by the arms to try and pull her back.

They were near the edge of the lake as the creature the tentacles belonged to burst from the water. Edmund had once wondered what would happen if an octopus mated with a squid. He now had his answer as the giant creature struck out with multiple tentacles at the group. The one holding Lucy yanked up, suspending her in the air as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Seeing their sister in danger was enough to get Peter and Edmund to leap into the fray without a moment's though, hacking at every tentacle in their path. Aragon was behind them, working his way toward Frodo while on the shore, Susan was raising her bow, trying to aim at the massive body. "Dammit, I can't get a clear shot!" she called out.

Legolas was right behind her, already firing an arrow that pierced the creature's left eye. It howled in rage and Lucy fell from its grasp, landing into Boromir's arms. Peter quickly grabbed her away and helped her toward the shore as Edmund sliced at the tentacle holding Frodo. "Back to the mine!" Aragon called out. "Hurry!"

The group ran toward the opening, the creature howling out, its tentacles reaching out to smash into the entranceway. The group raced in, only moments before the creature brought an avalanche of rock crumbling down behind them, cutting off the exit. A cloud of dust rose up as darkness took hold as pitch as the blackest night.

A light illuminated the room, much brighter than Edmund's torch. Gandalf had attached a stone to the end of his staff, the light from it shining brightly. "There is but one way now," he intoned as if this was perfectly normal. "Through the mines." He looked back at the group picking themselves up. "It will take at least four days. Best to start now." He began to walk up a flight of steps, Aragon following.

Peter and Edmund exchanged glances of worry while Susan rubbed at a still wet Lucy. "Starting to think we were better on our own, Pete?" Edmund asked.

"Oh, shut up," his brother muttered as they rose to follow into the darkness.


	3. A History Lesson

Chronicles of the Fellowship

Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**A History Lesson**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I'm hungry."

"Edmund, if Pippin says that again, hit him."

"With pleasure."

Over the course of a few days in utter darkness, even Lucy was feeling on edge and sour in mood. They had come across a few more bodies in their travels through the dark and dank tunnels, indicating a massive battle some time before. Given the number of small-sized corpses, the dwarves had been the losers of the conflict. It added even more gloom to the group as they headed up and down seemingly never-ending sets of tunnels and stairs. Needless to say, Peter's impatience grew with each hour and the other siblings weren't far behind him.

They were currently passing by a large chasm that opened into a central chamber. Scaffolding and various types of mining equipment were strewn about while the chamber appeared to be lit from glittering in the walls. "What is that?" Lucy asked, trying to break the monotony. "Gold?"

"The wealth of Moria is not in gold or jewels," Gandalf announced from the head of the group. "But from Mithril."

"Mithril?" Sam said. "Huh, old Bilbo used to have a shirt made of that. Said it was a gift from the dwarves."

"A kingly gift," Gimli said, sounding impressed.

"Indeed," Gandalf said. "I never told him but that shirt alone had more wealth than the whole of the Shire itself." Frodo rubbed at his chest with some surprise at that.

Susan could see Peter ready to burst with a question about who this Bilbo was and quickly stepped in to forestall another outburst. "So were these goblins out for the wealth in the mines?"

"Perhaps," the wizard stated. "Or…perhaps another, more dark purpose." He was silent again, a habit that was beginning to grate on Susan.

Lucy felt the need to speak up. "So…what sort of magic do you do?" She was rather curious as to how magic might be different here then in Narnia.

"Old Gandalf has the best fireworks the Shire has ever seen," Sam stated with pride.

"Oh, good," Susan dryly remarked. "If we're down here until Guy Fawke's Day, we're set."

The wizard chuckled. "Well, I do have a few other tricks as well."

"I hope you don't have to use the serious ones," Lucy said. "I really don't like battles. I've been in a few and I know how to fight but I'd much rather find a peaceful way to mend things."

Gandalf smiled. "So do I, my young lady. Sadly, that option is not as easily available these days."

Silence fell as the group stepped up to a small platform at the top of a set of stairs. Ahead of them were three doorways, each identical to the other. Gandalf paused, looking from one to the other. When he turned, it was with a haunted look on his face. "I have no memory of this place."

"Oh, you have to be joking," Susan groaned. "He's lost. The great, grand wizard is lost!"

"It has been a while," Gandalf stated as he removed his hat to sit. "Don't worry, though. Give me time, it will come to me."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I don't believe this. We might as well have been following Susan."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" his sister demanded with outrage.

"Nothing personal, Su. It's just that women have no head for directions."

"That's because our heads are actually full of useful things," Lucy said, bringing a laugh from her sister.

For the next twenty minutes, the group sat, mulling about their situation. Frodo had moved to Gandalf, the two whispering about something the others couldn't catch. LEgolas was on guard while Gimli sourly smoked on a pipe. The hobbits were talking amongst themselves while the children tried to understand the situation.

"I don't like this."

"Well, what would you like, Peter?" Susan snapped. "It was your suggestion to go along with them, if you'll recall."

"I just didn't expect all this," he said.

"We didn't either," Pippin said. "Me and Merry were running around getting some vegetables when we ran into Frodo and Sam and next thing we know, we're outrunning Wraiths and helping with the Ring and…"

"Ring?" Peter frowned. "What ring?"

"Oh, the Great Ring of Power that Frodo…" Pippin was cut off by Merry smacking him on the head as everyone else was giving the hobbit an ugly glare. "Save us from the tongues of Tooks!" Gandalf hissed under his breath as he sucked in a cloud of smoke and choked on it.

Peter looked around slowly. "What ring?" he asked again, this time more intently. As the silence grew and the others looked away, he felt his anger rise. "Listen, we didn't ask to be brought here but now that we are, I want to know what is going on."

"I'm with Peter on this one," Edmund declared. "We already got attacked by that…thing outside. If we're going to be in danger, I think we have a right to know why."

"It's a long tale," Sam said with a sigh.

Peter made a show of stretching out his arms and looking around. "Do you have any pressing engagements on hand?"

A long silence fell as the members of the Fellowship looked at each other for a moment. It was Aragon who broke the silence. "Have you ever heard the name of…Sauron?"

A very odd thing happened when he spoke that single word. Despite the fact they knew nothing of it or what it meant, each one of the children felt a chill go down their spines and a fear at their hearts at the mere mention of the word. Peter tried to brush it off. "No."

"Three rings for the elven kings under the sky." The children all looked over to the source of the voice. Gandalf sat, facing away from them as he spoke in a flat tone. "Seven for the dwarves in their halls of stone. Nine for mortal men doomed to die. One for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne, in the land of Mordor where shadows lie." He turned his head slightly toward them, his face as grave as his voice. "One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness, bind them."

His words echoed in the air for several seconds before Edmund spoke. "All right, I think you lost me a few rings ago."

Legolas sat down and adjusted his bow before speaking. "Three thousand years ago, a set of rings were forged, each with great power and able to influence others. Three were given to my people, the elves, the immortals who were able to properly control them. Seven were given to the dwarf lords who took them and hid them in their caverns like other treasures. And nine were given to nine great kings of men, who above all desire power."

Boromir glared at that but Aragon took up the tale. "What none of them realized was that the rings were not a gift but a curse. A trap created by the one who forged them, the most evil being this world has ever known: Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor. What they also did not know was that in the forges of Mount Doom, Sauron forged another ring, a master ring, imbued with his hate, his cruelty and his desire to rule all life, a ring that could control all the others." He looked at the children. "One ring to rule them all."

The children were enthralled at this point as Legolas spoke again. "The nine mortal kings soon fell under Sauron's influence and spread chaos while his orc armies rampaged across the lands. A mighty war raged with a last, desperate alliance of men and elves marching into the heart of Mordor to take the battle to him. It was a great battle with many elves and men falling and Sauron himself battling, the ring making him nearly invincible."

"Nearly," Boromir added. "When his father fell, Isildur, son of the King, took up his blade. Sauron shattered it with a stamp of his boot but Isildur was able to use the broken blade to slice the fingers off of Sauron's hand, including the Ring. Without that, Sauron's body was unable to survive and he was destroyed." The Pevensies couldn't help but note some pride in his voice as he spoke of the bravery of the man.

The pride was not in Legolas' as he took up the tale again. "Isildur should have ensured the Ring was destroyed but instead, he kept it. He was ambushed by orcs and tried to escape but was slain and the ring was lost in a riverbed. For over two thousand years, it was hidden while the tales of Sauron and his reign turned from history to legend."

"What happened then?" Lucy said, literally on the edge of her seat with wide eyes.

"About…five hundred years ago it is believed," Aragon stated. "The ring came to a figure who would become known as Gollum. He was much like a hobbit but by keeping the ring to him, he fell under its corruption and was enslaved by it. The ring extended his lifespan for centuries but also warped him in both body and mind. He kept onto it, hidden in a cave until the ring fell from his grasp and ended up in the hands of a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins."

"Baggins?" Peter glanced at Frodo, who was now listening to the tale as well. "As in…"

Sam nodded. "Mister Frodo's uncle," he answered. "Way back when, bout sixty years ago, Bilbo got pulled on a quest out of the Shire with Gandalf and some dwarves. A pretty wild adventure, as he loves to tell it to anyone who'll listen. Seems he found the ring on it, got it from Gollum somehow and kept it."

Peter frowned. "Wouldn't that effect him like this…Gollum person?"

"From what I heard Gandalf tell it," Sam answered. "Bilbo never really used the ring much, just kept it on him. It did lengthen his life a bit. He just passed his one hundred and eleventh birthday but looked a lot younger."

"Then he did," Merry pointed out. "Remember how he looked in Rivendell? It was as if he'd aged thirty years in only a few months."

"Without the ring, his age is catching up to him," Legolas stated sadly.

"Then Bilbo has the ring?" Peter asked, trying to keep up with the story.

Sam shook his head. "Night of his last birthday party, Bilbo pulled a disappearing act, literally, and left the Shire. Left the house and everything to Mister Frodo, including the ring. Frodo never touched it, not till Gandalf came to warn him."

"Warn him of what?"

The mood of the others darkened. "Tales have been rising for some time," Aragon said. "The orcs are organizing again. The old fortresses have been rebuilt and the Nine are riding forth."

"The Nine?" Edmund asked.

"The nine mortal kings Sauron gave the rings to. They were corrupted by them and fell to darkness. They are the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead, ordered by their master to find the Ring wherever it is."

"Their master?" Lucy frowned. "But…I thought you said Sauron had been destroyed thousands of years ago."

"His body was," Aragon told her. "But remember, Sauron had poured his power and evil into the ring. Because of that, his spirit endured all this time. It has taken him millennia to gain enough strength to command again but he is prepared to launch another great war upon the land. But most of all, he seeks the Ring."

"Let me guess," Peter sardonically said. "He gets this ring back, he's physically reborn and more powerful than ever before so he can take over the world."

Aragon nodded in confirmation. Edmund rubbed his head. "Forgive me for asking the obvious but…if it's so dangerous, why don't you just get rid of the bloody thing?!"

"The ring cannot be destroyed by mortal hands," Boromir said with a sigh. "Not the sharpest sword nor the hardest hammer could scratch it. It can sit in a furnace for hours and be cool to the touch. And there is nowhere to properly hide it that the Nazgul could not reach."

"It was made in the fires of Mount Doom," Legolas stated. "Only there can it be unmade."

"That is our quest, young ones," Aragon finished. "To protect Frodo as he heads into the dark heart of Mordor, to cast the ring into Mount Doom and end Sauron once and for all."

A long silence came up as the children took in the tale. Edmund blew out a breath and rubbed at his head again while Susan pursed her lips. Lucy appeared a bit shaken at the gravity of it all while Peter simply stared off. "What are our chances?" he finally asked in a soft voice.

Aragon raised an eyebrow at the use of "our" but it was Boromir was spoke. "The path to Mordor is lined with danger but the greatest threat is within. Hundreds of miles of uninhabitable rock and mountain covered with armies upon armies of orcs ready to tear any intruders apart. That's assuming you can get past the massive black gates."

"And assuming you can reach the gates," Gimli grumbled. "Sauron's sure to have his forces out. If not him, then Sauraman."

"Sauraman?" Susan asked, feeling a desperate need to write all this down. "Lord, this is worse than the War of the Roses!"

"A great wizard of Gandalf's order," Aragon answered. "Unfortunately, he has chosen to betray us and ally with Sauron."

"So if the evil wizard doesn't kill us, the orcs will," Edmund muttered. "Bloody wonderful."

"If you believe it is too dangerous, we will understand your not wanting to follow," Aragon stated.

"It's a bit late for that," Peter grumbled, glancing around the mines once more.

As if on cue, Gandalf suddenly rose and spoke. "Ah, it's this way!"

"He's remembered!" Merry said as he stood.

"No," the wizard answered. "When in doubt, Merriadoc, always follow your nose." He tapped it as he led them down one stairway that opened up into a much larger chamber. "I think we may be able to spare a bit more light," Gandalf announced as he lifted up his staff. "Behold the majesty of Moria!"

The crystal glowed brighter than ever to allow the group to see the chamber. It was massive, at least a few miles wide in every direction with stone pillars reaching hundreds of feet toward the rock ceiling. Runes and other symbols were carved into the arches as the group walked on. Even the Pevensies had to be impressed by the sheer majesty of it all, greater even than Cair Paravel.

They were passing by a small room with a shaft of light somehow shining through it. Gimli stopped in place, staring toward it. "No," he whispered. He ran forward toward the doorway. "No!"

"Gimli!" Gandalf called out before quickly following, the rest coming after him. The room wasn't too large and as with the rest of Moria, littered with arrow-filled corpses. At the center of it all was a large stone table illuminated by a shaft of light coming through a window that somehow reflected from the mountain. Gimli had fallen to his knees before the table, letting out a small cry. It took a moment for everyone to realize the table was, in fact, a stone casket.

Gandalf came forward, brushing the dust off the top of the casket to expose the dwarven writing. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," he gravely announced. He sighed sadly as he removed his hat. "He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Gimli let out a long moan at that. Boromir came up behind him to offer a comforting hand to the shoulder and Lucy found herself patting the other arm as well. Gandalf glanced over to see a book held in the bony arms of a dwarf body. He reached to get it, grimacing at the cracking of bones as the fingers gave way. He opened the thick volume and blew dust off the pages as he looked through it.

Legolas stepped up to Aragon. "We should not linger. There is danger here still."

"I agree," Peter whispered. "I'm sorry for your friend but there's nothing we can do."

"Give him a moment," Aragon said in a grave voice.

'They have taken the bridge and the second hall,'" The group all turned to Gandalf, who was reading aloud from the book. "'We have barred the gates… But cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums… Drums in the deep.'" He looked up briefly at all of them as he turned the page. "'We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out.'" He looked up at them all, his eyes haunted. "'They are coming.'"

Lucy swallowed and glanced around, trying to contain her fear. Her eyes went wide as she saw Pippin, holding Gandalf's hat, reaching toward a skeleton sitting on the edge of a well. "Don't!" she called out but it was too late. Pippin had pulled at an arrow on it and the head of the skeleton fell off, falling backward into the well with a crash that made everyone jump.

Pippin leapt back, swallowing as the entire skeleton fell back, its armor clanking with every bounce off the stone walls of the well. A ringing went out as the chain attached to its leg also fell followed finally by a large bucket. The crashing sounds echoed through the well and then through the entire mine before finally ending in a loud crash far below.

For several seconds everyone stood frozen, not daring to even breathe as the sounds echoed in the air. They remained that way, listening for any other sound before finally relaxing. All except Gandalf who had been glaring with ice at Pippin all this time. "Fool of a Took!" he spat as he yanked his hat out of the hobbit's hand. "Next time, throw yourself in and free us of your stupidity!"

"There's no need to be so rude!" Lucy called out. "He made a simple mistake."

"It's not like there's still anyone to hear it," Edmund inserted. "Come on, the place is…"

**BOOM**

Everyone froze once more as the sudden sound rang out.

**BOOM**

**BOOM**

"Drums in the deep," Edmund whispered.

Sam was looking to Frodo. "Frodo, your sword!"

Frodo pulled the blade out of its scabbard and Lucy started as she saw it glowing blue. "Does it always do that?"

"No," Frodo said. "Bilbo gave it to me. He said it only glows in the presence of…"

A series of loud chittering sounds were joining the drumbeats and Legolas gasped out. "Orcs!"

Edmund became aware of Peter and Susan both glaring at him. "Oh, sure, blame me…"


	4. Fire Under the Mountain

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Fire Under the Mountain**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Boromir turned to race toward the door. Peter was behind him, calling over his shoulder. "Lucy, stay back!" He was almost at the door as Boromir looked out then yanked his head back in, barely avoiding the pair of arrows that buried themselves into the wood. The man pushed the door shut and leaned against it as Peter and Aragon came up. "They have a cave troll," he announced, sounding more annoyed than worried.

_Cave troll?_ Peter wondered but had no time to ask questions as Legolas threw him a large axe. Boromir and Aragon had already grabbed some loose spears and used them to brace the door as best they could. "That won't hold for long," Peter said as they backed up. "Are there any other ways out of here?"

"It's a tomb, Peter," Susan snapped as she pulled her bow out. "They don't design them with multiple exits."

Peter gave her a sharp glare as he unsheathed his sword. Boromir had pulled his long cloak off to give him more room to maneuver as he got his own sword out. Gandalf had removed a sword from his robes as he glanced at Lucy and the hobbits. "Stay behind me! Draw your swords!"

The doors began to buckle as the loud noises of whatever was behind them sounded out, smashing against the barrier. Gimli growled as he climbed onto the stone casket. "Let them come!" he snarled. "Let them see there is one dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!"

"You just keep on drawing then, Gimli," Edmund drawled as he hefted his sword up. Boromir gave his blade a twist as he prepared himself, his shield raised. Legolas and Aragon had their bows up and ready as Susan moved between them, her own bow raised without shaking. The two men exchanged a bemused look at each other behind her before turning back to the door.

The howls were growing louder as swords and axes began to strike the door. Wood splintered under the blows and soon holes began to appear. As soon as they opened, Legolas fired an arrow and was rewarded by an orc's cry of pain. Aragon fired at another hole and Susan let loose her own arrow. She was reaching for another as Legolas fired his second off, the doors continuing to smash under blows. Susan was just raising her bow back up when the doors crashed aside and a horde of the most hideous creatures she'd ever laid eyes upon rushed in like a wave of locusts.

Each of them had the same build and characteristics: Black leathery skin, pointed ears, feral features with canine teeth, most bald while some had greasy hair of various types. All were clad in dark brown leather clothing and all carrying long and sharp swords, axes and other weapons, howling as they piled on, at least thirty with more coming in behind them.

Legolas fired another arrow to strike one orc right through the head. Susan had enough time to fire off another before the wave was on them. Boromir was the first to attack, his shield raised to block an axe, letting out a loud cry as he swung his sword out. Peter was soon joining him, Edmund right behind, the two carving into the orcs around them. Aragon was soon in the fray as well, his own sword swinging, beheading one orc as green blood flowed from the corpse.

Gandalf lunged forward, his staff smacking two orcs back while his sword plunged into another with much greater speed and strength than one would guess of a man his age. As the orc forces circled around toward them, the hobbits let out a collective yell and charged into the fray. Lucy took a deep breath before joining them, her dagger held high.

An orc leapt forward, his large sword raised over his head. Squealing, Lucy ducked right between the creature's legs, rolling on the dusty floor and coming up behind him. The creature turned out, surprised at the move but swinging his blade, Lucy ducking and lunging forward to stab him in the chest. The orc cried out in pain but appeared to be not too wounded by the small blade. Lucy pulled it out, backing up as the orc came forward only to be stopped by an arrow in its heart.

Lucy glanced up to see Susan on the small balcony of rocks encircling the room. It appeared her sister had scampered up some rocks to reach the higher ground and was using it to pick off opponents below. She fired off another arrow to strike an orc down as one leapt up toward her. With a swing, Susan smacked the end of her bow into his face to knock him back, moving away as she prepared to draw again.

Peter was slashing his sword wildly but still able to block blows from opponents. Orcs appeared to not have much intelligence but made up for it in sheer ferocity, some taking a few stabs to go down. He whirled to cut down another, seeing Edmund holding his own in the corner and the hobbits also doing not badly.

A roar got his attention, one much louder and deeper than the orcs and Peter turned to the doorway. His eyes widened as he saw an orc pulling on a chain attached to a monstrous creature that smashed its way through the doorway. It was a huge being that resembled a misshapen human but hairless with a giant head and thick muscles, a large club in its hand.

"Cave troll?" he asked in a flat voice.

"Cave troll," Boromir confirmed. He ducked to smash his shield into an orc's face and then stab him. Up ahead, Aragon was cutting down the orc holding the chain, letting the chain fly off into the air. It landed before Boromir, the man catching it reflexively. He stared at it for a moment in surprise which was all the time needed for the troll to yank on it and send Boromir slamming into a wall on the opposite side. He gasped in shock, stunned, his eyes so blurry he barely saw the orc lunging toward him. Just as the creature was about to stab him, it cried out and fell, revealing Edmund standing behind him with a broken blade. Boromir gave a grateful nod as he recovered.

The troll was running forward, swinging his club one way and the other, a few unlucky orcs caught in its path and smashed aside. It lunged forward toward Gimli, the dwarf managing to duck out of the way as the club smashed Balin's tomb to pieces. Gimli rolled on the floor, coming up to cut down an orc with his axe.

Above, Susan saw a flash of yellow and green and realized Legolas had decided to follow her lead and take to the higher ground. The Elf fired an arrow at the troll's arm, which produced no effect other than a loud roar. The creature whipped his chain around the room, scattering the attackers about. He threw it toward Legolas, the elf dodging behind a column of stone as the chain wrapped itself around it. The elf rushed out, running down the length of the chain and onto the troll's back. As Susan watched in astonishment, Legolas stood on the troll's shoulders and fired a pair of arrows right into its head and neck.

The creature howled and threw itself back, sending Legolas flying off. With catlike grace, he landed and rolled, his dagger flashing out to slash an orc's throat before moving back to safety. Susan fired an arrow of her own at the troll's neck but it went wide. The creature seemed intent on one scurrying figure in particular. "Frodo!" Susan cried out in warning.

The hobbit had already noticed the behemoth coming toward him and ran faster toward the wall for safety. Peter rushed in, his sword slicing at the troll's leg and barely avoided the kick the creature sent at him in rage. Edmund shook his head at his brother's impatience as he sliced another orc down.

Frodo had managed to get to a corner only to find the troll lunging after him, his club smashing toward him. Aragon leapt before the troll, holding a long spear to try and keep it back. The creature snarled and then showed some surprising cunning by grasping the spear and twisting it, sending Aragon smashing into a wall. Hefting the spear, the troll thrust it right into Frodo's mid-section.

"NO!" Lucy yelled, outraged by the young man she'd come to like being stabbed. A fury quite unlike her seized her mind as she leapt to the battle, slashing her dagger left and right at any orc in her path. The other hobbits took it even worse with Sam swinging his sword with one hand while the other smashed a frying pan into an orc's jaw. On the balcony above, Merry and Pippin exchanged a look, then, with a combined yell, leapt down onto the troll's neck, hanging on while they stabbed it. The troll reared its head back, exposing its neck. Legolas and Susan saw the exposed spot and each instinctively aimed and fired together without realizing it. The two arrows streaked in to slice right into the small of the troll's throat. The creature stumbled forward, staggering. Peter once more moved to slash at the back of its leg, Edmund joining him this time. That was enough for the troll to finally fall forward and collapse, letting out a shudder before falling still.

It took a moment to register that the rest of the orcs had already fallen and everyone took another moment to let the adrenaline fade and recover. "Frodo!" Aragon gasped as he raced to the corner where the hobbit sat on the wall, the spear still stuck in him. Lucy choked back some tears, positive he was dead and was thus quite startled when Fordo's eyes snapped open and he gasped.

Aragon stared in shock. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar!" he gasped.

Gandalf smiled as he came forward. "I think there is more to this than meets the eye."

Frodo swallowed as he undid his cloak, opening it to reveal a white chainmail shirt that seemed to glow in the light. "Mithril," Gimli gasped as he pointed at it.

"It's old Bilbo's shirt!" Sam said with a grateful laugh. "I was wondering what became of it!"

"A kingly gift indeed," Gandalf chuckled.

"Got any more of those?" Peter asked as he sheathed his sword.

"Why not one for your head?" Susan asked as she climbed down from the balcony. "Honestly, Peter, attacking a troll by yourself?"

"I had it sorted," he said defensively.

"Of course, you did," Edmund noted with a sardonic tone.

Before Peter could reply, another chorus of cries and chittering echoed from the stairs beyond the room. "Oh, hell, more of them?" Edmund moaned.

Gandalf brought himself up. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dum!" He rushed toward the doorway, the others following as they ran into the huge chambers of Moria. Gandalf's crystal was once more lighting the way as they ran on, the howls of orcs growing larger as they went. A brush of movement above caught Peter's attention and he looked up to see orcs crawling down the pillars and columns like ants. "Faster!" he yelled, grabbing Lucy by the hand to drag her on despite her protests.

"They're coming before us!" Susan cried out, seeing a wave of orcs flowing down in the path ahead of them. The group slowed as the orcs closed around them, moving back to back, all weapons raised. "All right, just keep calm," Peter said, trying to keep his own voice from quavering. "We can handle this."

"Oh, sure, we can handle it," Edmund said. "So which do you want, the hundred before us or the hundred behind us?"

Peter was about to make a sharp reply when...

**"GHHHHAHHHHH!"  
**

The loud roar literally shook the entire corridor. As startled as the Fellowship was, the reaction of the orcs was far more dramatic. The ones closest showed expressions of terror, shaking as the loud roar echoed once more. Then, as one, the orcs began to scatter, chirps of fear replacing their roars of anger as they raced in all directions, crawling up columns, down holes, into whatever shelter they could.

Gimli let out a laugh, apparently, the only one who actually thought the fear was because of the Fellowship. Everyone else was slowly turning toward the source of the roars, the far end of the chamber. A red glow was starting to flow forward, as if directed by a source.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir muttered.

Gandalf's face was drawn in heavy fear, as if something he did not want true was confirmed. "A Balrog," he intoned.

"A Balrog?" Edmund moaned. "What is that, don't tell me, I don't think I really want to know."

"A demon of the ancient world," Gandalf said as if Edmund had not spoken. "This enemy is beyond any of you." He began to break away. "RUN!"

The others didn't need to be told twice as they raced after him. Lucy started to turn to see the Balrog following but Frodo forced her to look ahead. "Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back," he hissed under his breath as they hurried on.

Boromir was in the lead as they raced through a doorway and stopped on the very edge of a wide chasm hundreds of feet deep. He staggered, swinging his arms for balance before Edmund could pull him back. They were in another huge chamber with steps leading up and down the chasm to the other side. Reddish light and thick heat came from the flows of lava far, far below. "Make for the bridge!" Gandalf cried from the rear as he waved his arms to drive them on.

The ground shook as they raced down the stairs, the long pillars shaking with each fearsome step of the creature above. They paused before a wide break between sets of stairs, Legolas leaping forward to the other side. Boromir made a move toward Susan. "Ladies first," he said in an attempt at lightness.

She made a smirk before leaping forward, Legolas catching her. She pulled away quickly from his tight grasp and reached up as Lucy came forward. Suddenly, an arrow streaked in between them. Looking up, the group saw orcs on the balconies on the far side, firing arrows off. "Say whatever else you will about orcs," Edmund grunted, ducking one arrow. "You can't say they're not persistent."

"They make up in enthusiasm what they lack in intellect," Boromir agreed, holding up his shield to block an arrow. Legolas had his bow up in an instant, firing arrows to pick off orcs, one falling into the chasm below. Susan was soon following him to give the group cover.

Edmund moved in, taking Lucy by the hand. "Hold on, Luc," he said as he leapt forward, pulling her along to land on the stairs. Boromir took Merry in one hand, Pippin in the other, and leapt to join them. Aragon lifted up Sam and tossed him across to Boromir. He turned to Gimli but the dwarf held up a hand. "_Nobody _tosses a dwarf!" he snarled. Before Aragon could stop him, he leapt across the chasm, his feet just barely touching the other side. He started to fall back, Edmund reaching to grab his beard. Despite Gimli's howls of outrage, Edmund yanked him forward to the steps.

Peter was preparing to leap when a loud crash shook the pillar, the stone at the bottom cracking. Peter, Aragon and Frodo tried to hold their balance as the long pillar shook back and forth, the first part of the steps before them crumbling off. "Move to the front!" Peter called out as he headed that way. "Try to use the momentum!"

Aragon and Frodo did so, the rock starting to settle forward. Aragon wrapped a hand around Frodo as he judged the way the column moved. With a deep breath, he leapt forward to the waiting group. Peter waited until they were on the other side before jumping himself, Boromir and Edmund catching him to help him along. The group ran down as the column of steps broke off and fell into the chasm below.

They raced up another set of stairs that led to a long bridge over yet another chasm, this one so deep that no light at all shone from its bottom. "Across it!" Gandalf ordered. "Get to the other side!"

A blast of heat came from behind them and everyone turned to see a huge cloud of smoke and flame flowing from the chasm. It parted enough to show the Balrog lunging forward. The creature was like the stories the children had heard of the old demons of Hell, standing almost fifty feet tall on huge legs, a pair of black wings billowing out behind it. Its face was a giant maw marked by eyes of red and a pair of horns jutting out of its temples. When it opened its mouth to roar, pure fire billowed out, just as with its eyes.

Susan whispered a prayer under her breath as she saw the hideous creature while Peter and Edmund both gulped and Lucy shrunk back behind Boromir. "Run!" Gandalf yelled although no one needed the encouragement. The hobbits were the first in line, scampering over the bridge with Lucy quickly behind them, Boromir, Legolas, Peter, Edmund and Aragon, all regrouping on the other side by a set of steps leading upward toward a shaft of light.

Gandalf stopped in the middle of the bridge, turning around to face the Balrog. The demon stopped at the edge of the bridge, snarling and billowing its wings, smoke and flame flowing outward. "You cannot pass!" Gandalf yelled.

"What the hell is he doing?!" Susan screamed.

"Gandalf!" Frodo yelled as the Balrog held up a huge sword of flame.

"Shoot the thing!" Peter said.

Susan stared at him. "It's a fifty-foot monster made out of fire, Peter! How much good do you think an arrow will be?"

On the bridge, Gandalf showed no fear as he held his staff high. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor." The crystal on his staff glowed to surround Gandalf with a bubble of light. "The dark fire will not avail you, _Flame of Udun_!" The Balrog roared and brought down its sword which crashed into the barrier of light that encased Gandalf. "Go back to the shadow," Gandalf snarled as the Balrog brought up its hand again, a whip of flame snapping in the air.

Gandalf brought his staff and sword up, holding both high together as he bellowed out. **"**_YOU…SHALL NOT…PASS!"_ He slammed the staff down onto the bridge, letting out a shockwave of energy. The Balrog was stepping onto the bridge, which crumbled under its weight. The whip snapped once more as the bridge finally gave way, crumbling under it. The Balrog let out a huge roar of anger, smoke and fire flying around as it fell into the chasm, disappearing into the darkness.

Gandalf looked down at the pit and let out a satisfied grunt. He turned back to join the group and thus missed the fiery whip flying outward to wrap around his leg. He gasped out as he fell to the ground and was yanked backward, clutching with vain at the ground before reaching the edge.

"Gandalf!" Frodo yelled again and Peter made to move toward him but Aragon held him back.

The wizard looked at them, his face showing no fear, just acceptance. "Fly, you fools." Then he was gone, pulled over the side and falling into the chasm below.

"NOOOO!" Frodo yelled out, Lucy joining his cry. Aragon stared in utter disbelief at the spot Gandalf had fallen, not even seeing the orcs on the other side of the pit, firing arrows off. Peter grabbed at Lucy to pull her back while Boromir literally picked up Frodo to head to the stairs. "Aragon!" he called out to the other man, snapping him out of his stupor. With a final look at the pit, Aragon raced up the stairs, ducking arrows along the way.

It was a bit of a shock to exit into daylight, the crisp air a relief after the days underground, the surface of the hill rock with a small pond nearby. Peter bent forward, trying to catch his breath as Edmund slumped on a nearby stone. Gimli was roaring in outrage, trying to get back to the mine with Boromir holding him back and whispering encouragement to him. Legolas stood to one side, his face marked with disbelief over what had occurred. Lucy felt tears in her eyes as she leaned on Susan, her sister stroking her hair to try and comfort her. Pippin was lying on the ground crying with Merry next to him, in shock, Sam nearby with his head in his hands.

Peter took a deep breath before rising up. "We'd better get moving. Come on."

Susan gaped at him. "Peter!"

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped in agreement.

"He's right," Aragon announced, wiping his sword clean with a piece of cloth. "By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orc." He pointed the sword to a cluster of trees a distance off. "We must make our way to Lothlorien."

Peter had no idea what that place was but anywhere sounded better than in a mine full of orcs. He was aware of Edmund glaring at him and sighed. "There's nothing we can do for him, Ed." He looked to the teary-eyed Lucy. "He sacrificed himself to help us. You want to waste that?"

Lucy bowed her head. "I just…he was such a nice old man…"

Boromir was getting the hobbits together, their grief still evident. "I know, Lu," Peter softly said. He looked to see Frodo gazing outward and moved to him. "Frodo?" he softly spoke. He could tell the young hobbit and Gandalf had been close. "Are you…"

He stopped as Frodo turned to him, his eyes showing the devastation in his spirit. But Peter's attention was turned to what he held in his open palm. It was a simple gold band on a chain. Nothing fancy, nothing spectacular, not even that expensive looking. But Peter knew this was the Ring they had talked of. And as he stared at it, he could feel the pure, unadulterated evil that poured out of that small thing…

And to his horror, he could also feel how much he wanted it for himself. Even as Frodo closed his fist around the ring and placed it back in his pocket, Peter stared after him as for the first time in a long time, he no longer felt a King of Narnia but a young man out of his element.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**So as you can see, a bit of temptation set up as next chapter brings the Lady of the Woods…who will strike the children as uncomfortably familiar.**


	5. The Lady of Light

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**The Lady of Light**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sun was beginning its downward motions to the horizon as the group came to the large forest a mile or so away from Moria. A cool breeze cut through the trees which appeared to have leaves of gold flowing about. The Fellowship was starting to recover from their shock to get their minds back to their mission. Gimli made a motion toward the hobbits and children. "Keep close, young ones! They say these woods are haunted by a powerful witch."

"Witch?" Edmund said, his eyes going wide. "Did he say witch? Did he say witch?" The other children appeared just as alarmed at the words.

"Aye," Gimli said. "A cunning sorceress who casts a spell on all who see her and those who do are never heard from again."

"Then who tells the stories?" Susan asked, trying to keep calm. She could see Edmund truly worried and couldn't quite blame him. The mere mention of the White Witch was enough to make her normally strong brother break into a cold sweat and the others weren't far behind.

Legolas glared at the dwarf. "There are no such dangers here, dwarf. We are in a safe refuge. Lothlorian, home of "Caras Galadhon, the heart of Elvendom on Middle Earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." His eyes narrowed as he finished. "Who is no witch."

Gimli snorted. "So you say, elf."

"I must say," Boromir spoke. "We know tales of her darker ways in Gondor."

"Then you know nothing in Gondor!" Legolas snapped.

Aragorn spoke to him in a strange language that Peter guessed was Elvish. Legolas calmed down but still glared at the man from Gondor.

"Well," Gimli announced. "This is one dwarf she won't ensnare in her nets! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than an arrow materialized inches away from his nose. Everyone started as elves suddenly appeared all around them, as if melting from the air and trees, over a dozen aiming bows right at the group. Peter put a hand to his sword but saw there was really nothing he could do. Legolas had his bow raised but also did not let an arrow loose.

"The dwarf breathes so loudly, we could have shot him in the dark." The dry voice came from an elf who stepped forward, the sheen of armor on him indicating he was the leader of this band. Aragorn quickly stepped forward, bowing his head and speaking in Elvish.

"Wait, you know these people?" Peter blurted.

"Long has it been since you traveled through here, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the elf stated. He glanced at the others, his eyes hardening as he looked at Frodo. "You bring great evil here," he hissed.

"Aragorn, these woods are perilous!" Gimli spoke up. "We should leave them!"

"I second the motion!" Edmund added.

"You shall not leave yet," the elf declared. "But neither shall you come forward."

Aragorn moved closer. "Haldir, we need sanctuary. The road back is covered with orcs."

"You know we maintain our privacy for a reason, Aragorn," the elf named Haldir said. He glanced at the others before speaking again in Elvish.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves!" Gimli snorted. "Speak words we can all understand!"

Haldir glared at him. "We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And you know what this dwarf says to that…" Before Gimli could continue, Susan slapped a hand over his mouth. While she may not know much of elves, she did know that angering a band of warriors who outnumbered you three to one was not a smart move. Gimli grumbled but she kept her hand tight until he quieted down.

Aragorn gave her a grateful look before leaning in to whisper an argument with Haldir in Elvish. The rest of the group stood a distance off, watched by the elves while handling the events of before. Frodo in particular looked especially downcast and even a comforting rub of the shoulder by Lucy did little to pick his spirits up.

Boromir leaned in to speak softly to him. "Gandalf's death was not in vain…nor would he have you give up hope." Frodo glanced up as the man spoke solemnly. "You carry a heavy burden already, Frodo. Do not add the weight of the dead to it."

Frodo pondered this as Peter glanced back to him, then to Edmund. "You okay, Ed?" he whispered.

His brother started. "What? Um, yes…Yes." Peter continued to gaze and Edmund sighed. "No…I mean….if this is a witch…"

"Ed, just because she's a witch doesn't make her automatically evil," Peter said. "I don't think Aragorn would lead us here if he thought it was dangerous. Just give her a chance."

Edmund let out a sigh. "Fine…but I'm telling you right now, she offers treats of any sort, I'm turning around and taking my chances with the orcs."

Peter chuckled until he realized his brother was dead serious. Haldir's voice got their attention. "You will come with me." The tone made it clear it was not a request as the elves began to direct the Fellowship down the forest paths. The group glanced about nervously but kept calm outwardly as they were led down the forest roads. A high ridge greeted them as they walked about, coming to a huge staircase set along the trunk of a large tree. It was elegantly made with a leaf design to the grating and railings, the moonlight coming in from above as they followed Haldir up.

They were led to a platform set among the trees, blue lighting all about them, the massive trees creating new shadows. The group settled onto the platform before a large staircase, a pair of guards standing at either side. Peter glanced back at Edmund, who hung at the back of the group, still nervous. Peter looked back up in time to see two people stepping down the stairs before them, their hands linked together.

Despite all the wonders they had seen in Narnia and beyond, the children still felt nothing but awe as Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel stepped before them. Celeborn was a tall man with a face of age and experience but also seeming ageless as well, his hair nearly white and flowing behind him with his grand robes. Galadriel had the same ageless beauty with piercing blue eyes, wearing a lovely white robe with a pendant around her neck and a silver ringlet about her brow. She gazed at them all with the look of a being able to see far beyond what the mortal eye showed.

Aragorn bowed, touching a hand to his head and whispering a greeting in Elvish. Celeborn nodded as he spoke in a deep voice. "The Enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had for secrecy is now gone." He looked over them all. "Nine left Rivendell, twelve there are now. Tell me, where is Gandalf?"

The group looked at each other, no one quite sure how to relate the news. It was taken from their hands when Gladriel spoke in a tone that was pure music even with sorrowful. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow."

Aragorn nodded as Legolas spoke. "He was taken by both shadow and flame; a Balrog of Morgoth. We went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Galadriel smiled. "Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his whole purpose." Her eyes flickered to the dwarf with the bowed head. "Do not let the great emptiness of the mines fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin." Gimli started at being addressed in such a friendly fashion.

The Lady gazed at them all, noting how both Boromir and Edmund flinched at her steady look. "The quest stands on the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fall to the ruin of all." She paused as Boromir looked away before continuing. "Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Our home shall be yours and you shall rest in peace."

"Couldn't she have found a better way to say that?" Susan couldn't help muttering under her breath. Galadriel's eyes flashed toward her and Susan felt a shudder as she realized the woman could hear her. _Stupid. You think those ears are just for show?_

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

For forest folk, the elves had a lovely sense for treating guests. The Fellowship was treated to a nice dinner at an outdoor table which they more than appreciated. Even Edmund let go of his nervousness to feast upon the meat although he made a point of avoiding any of the offered treats. They also made use of the baths, warm springs set within the heart of the forest. Now, with night fallen, they sat about an open field nestled among the trees. Legolas had changed to a nice white shirt with symbols stitched on it as he paced around.

The air was still but also filled with the sounds of elves singing. Lucy looked upward as she listened to the lovely tune, reminded of the dryads back at Narnia. "What are they singing?"

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas pensively said.

"What's it sound like?" Merry asked.

Legolas sighed. "I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near."

"They should put in a lyric about his fireworks," Sam glumly said. "The Shire won't be the same without them."

Edmund was pacing by a tree where Aragorn sat, sharpening his sword on a rock. Boromir was nearby, looking troubled by a great tree root. A fountain gurgled nearby, a pool with a statue standing on it. "You are troubled," Aragorn suddenly spoke.

Edmund started before sighing. "I…She…The elf queen that is….She reminds me of someone."

"Someone who was not friendly, I take it."

Edmund nodded as he looked down. "A witch who ruled Narnia for over a hundred years before we came. She kept the land in constant winter and turned those who opposed her into stone. I didn't know that when we met. She…seemed nice. She treated me kindly and like a fool…"

"You're not the first young man to be fooled by a woman, my friend," Boromir said with a dark chuckle. "You won't be the last."

Aragorn placed his sword down as he looked up at Edmund. "I can assure you, Galadriel is no enemy. She and her husband have ruled these lands for centuries and have always been an aid to the forces of good. In the last great war against Sauron, they sent their forces to aid in the final battle. She will keep us safe. You should take some rest."

Boromir sighed. "I will find no rest here." At the looks of the two men, he gazed downward. "I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, even now, there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It has been long since we had any hope."

He looked up to the two men. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And now our…our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I— I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored." He smiled to Aragorn. "Have you ever seen it Aragorn? Gondor?"

"I have," the man answered. "Long ago."

Boromir looked to Edmund. "You and your family should see it before you leave us, young Edmund. The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

As a matter of fact, Edmund had been called home that way to Cair Paravel a few times but decided to hold his tongue here. Boromir smiled to Aragorn, more friendly than before. "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"

Aragorn patted his shoulder. "One day. For now, rest."

Edmund moved over to where Peter stood. His brother was leaning against a tree, his eyes focused on Frodo, who lay nearby, his back turned away. "Peter?" Edmund asked softly. "Are you all right?"

His brother kept staring at Frodo before speaking. "What are we doing here, Ed?"

Edmund sighed. "I'd hoped you'd be able to answer that better."

"In Narnia, I knew what to do," Peter said. "I was the High King, I knew how to make it all work. But here…" He shook his head. "I have no clue about any of this."

Edmund shrugged. "Neither do I. But you know, Pete, it was never perfect in Narnia at the beginning. We all had to learn as we go. Maybe we're not recognized as rulers but we are still kings. We can still use that."

"I suppose…"

Edmund narrowed his eyes. "Pete, what's bothering you? Really?"

Peter kept his eyes on Frodo as he spoke. "I saw the ring in his hand earlier. One look and I knew everything Gandalf had said was true. It's evil, Ed. It's evil and it's powerful and I think it may even be alive in a fashion…" He gazed at his brother with haunted eyes. "And I wanted it."

Edmund stared, horrified. Peter had always been the most level-headed of them all in Narnia and while his temper had gotten the best of him since coming back to London, he'd been the one they all looked to for guidance. For him to be tempted made Edmund afraid, even more so as he wondered how he would stand up to the power of the Ring.

Before he could speak, Susan came up, her face worried. "Have either of you seen Lucy?"

The two boys were instantly alert. "No, I thought she was with you," Peter said.

Susan shook her head. "No, I was talking with Haldir about archery and she must have wandered off to explore."

"Let's try to find her," Edmund said. "But keep it to just us for now, no need to get the rest worked up after all they've been through." His brother and sister nodded as they began to search around the forest area.

Susan was making her way around a fountain when she saw a familiar dress flowing nearby. "Lucy?" she called out as she headed up a short path, Peter and Edmund following her. The path led them up a short hill, then down a set of steps to a small well of water. Lucy was there, peering about as if looking for something. "Lucy!" Susan snapped as she moved in. "We've been looking for you!"

Lucy jumped a bit before turning. "Oh! I'm sorry but…I saw…" She stopped and bit her lip, seemingly unsure.

"Saw what?" Peter asked.

Lucy took a breath. "I saw…at least I thought I saw…Aslan."

They stared at her with wide eyes as she spoke. "I was walking down a path and looked over and…it was a lion just staring before it walked in this direction."

"Are you sure, Lu?" Peter asked. "I mean, this is a strange world, there's no telling what sort of creatures it has that we haven't seen yet."

Lucy fixed him with one of her looks much older than her face. "Don't talk to me like a grown-up, Peter. I wouldn't have followed him unless I was sure."

"Then where is he?" Edmund demanded. "I don't doubt you, Lucy. I did it once before and we all know what happened. If you say you saw him, you did. But I'd like a few words with him."

"You may not get him, King Edmund," a silky voice came down the steps. "For the great lion is not as direct as you'd think."

The children jumped and whirled about to see Galadriel walking down the steps so elegantly, it was as if she barely registered in weight. She was wearing a lighter white robe without the ringlet but still had that enigmatic smile on her face as she looked at them all. She saw Edmund's hand going to his hip and his hiss as he realized he didn't have his sword with him.

"Be at peace, young ones," she said, holding up a hand. "I mean no harm to you." Her eyes fell on Edmund. "Any of you."

Edmund felt himself relaxing a bit, her gaze warmer than before. He still felt wary around her; after all, the woman even resembled the White Witch a bit. Yet there was something in her the Witch had lacked, even when Edmund believed her a friend. A warmth and a desire to help but also knowledge to go with her power.

Peter licked his lips. "You know…of Aslan?"

"I know of many things beyond the pale of others, High King," Galadriel said as she circled the pool. "It was a gift bequeathed to me long ago. A gift that was intended a curse." She held up her hand to let the light shimmer off a golden band on her finger.

"Is…" Susan swallowed. "Is that…"

"One of the three rings created for the elves by Sauron," Galadriel confirmed. "Unlike the mortal kings and dwarf lords, we were able to understand their power and use them well. For myself, a benefit has been a sight beyond others. A sight that, at times, has allowed my dreams to peer through the veils separating worlds."

"Narnia," Lucy breathed.

Galadriel nodded. "In my dreams, I have seen it. In my dreams, the Great Lion has spoken to me. It told me that a day may come when those of his protection came to my home." She smiled. "Long has it been but the day has come."

"You've spoken to Aslan?" Lucy asked with excitement. "What does he say? Why did he send us here? Will we be going home or to Narnia soon?"

Galadriel let out a light laugh. "Too long since a child walked this land, dear Lucy. I had forgotten the impatience they have with their innocence." Her smile dimmed. "Hold to that innocence, child. It may be your salvation. And that of others."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

He froze as Galadriel's eyes fixed on him, slightly harder than before. "You have felt the pull of the Ring. Do not deny it. And do not be shamed of that." Her eyes flickered away with some guilt. "Even I…I felt it…I wished it. For one moment this past hour, I wanted nothing more than to take it, to become a queen of great power and perish the world." She shuddered as if trying to rid herself of the memory before looking back at Peter. "That is its power, Peter. To make you think you can control it, instead of it controlling you. One among you has felt it much more."

"Frodo?" Susan asked, trying not to look at her brother.

Galadriel shook her head. "It is not for me to say. Although the Ring-Bearer does have the greatest danger before him. It is to him this task has been appointed and should he fail, this world shall fall." She looked to them all. "I have seen the possible future for this world, young ones. Both of victory and despair. But now…those visions have changed. Because of you."

Lucy licked her lips. "I…Did Aslan send us here?"

"The Great Lion works in ways even I do not understand, Lucy. Why he chose you to come here rather than Narnia is not obvious to me. But I suspect you have a part to play in what is to come, greater than I can foresee now."

"Why us?" Peter demanded. "Why would he send us?"

"You know the odds the Fellowship faces, the impossible before them. You were four normal children who brought freedom and peace to an entire world not your own. Who better to aid against our troubles?"

Edmund bit his lip. "So we help them out here…What happens…if we fail?"

Galadriel's smile lacked mirth. "This is no dream world, my young king. What happens here is what happens." Edmund swallowed, wishing he hadn't asked.

"What do we do then?" Susan asked. "You must see that."

"I see much, young one," Galadriel said. "But I cannot say more than I have. To know too much of one's fate is to jeopardize all."

"But if we knew what to do…"

"You cannot know everything, no matter how much you try, Susan," the elven lady said. "I know the difficulties you have faced since returning to your home. But you and Peter would do well to take this advice: Do not be so rushed to reach adulthood again so quickly. What happens, happens for a reason and age is an example of that. Hold to your memories but do not let them interfere with your present."

The two looked taken aback as Galadriel slowly turned and walked back up the steps. "You should seek rest. You must leave at first light."

"Can you…" Peter sighed. "Can you tell us anything? Please?"

Galadriel paused and turned to smile at them. "Believe in yourselves. It saved you before. It can do so again and thus save us all." She turned and in a few steps, vanished back into the forests.

"Bloody hell and I thought centaurs could be cryptic," Edmund muttered. He realized he no longer felt any fear about the woman. Annoyance, yes, but no fear.

Susan sighed. "So we are meant to help this Fellowship."

"It looks that way," Peter said. He paused to look them all over. "I suppose there's no use asking if any of you want to back out."

"And go where?" Edmund asked. "There's no wardrobe, Peter, no way to get back unless Aslan wants it. And if we're here to aid them, it looks like we have to stick with them if we want to go home."

"But it's more than that," Lucy said. "I want to help them. For Frodo, for Gandalf and because it's right!"

Peter looked at her and managed to chuckle. "Doesn't matter what age you are, Lu. There's no arguing with you when you've got that face on."

"About time you figured that out," she teased.

Peter nodded as he headed to the steps. "Let's get some rest then. We'll need it for tomorrow." He led the others up, Lucy pausing to look back at the well. It seemed to shimmer and for the briefest moments, she swore she saw a feline face gazing at her through the water. Then it shimmered and was clear and still as the night continued to fall around them.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Rather ironic that I started this and INMH has finally gotten around to updating his great "The Hobbit, the Ring and the Fellowship." But as you can tell, some differences between the two and more to come. **


	6. Leavings and Breakings

The Chroncicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Leavings and Breakings**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dawn was breaking as the Fellowship prepared to leave Lothlorien, a thin mist hanging in the air, adding to the mysterious edge of the forest.. Before they could depart, however, Galadriel insisted on presenting them with gifts for each, including elegantly made cloaks with lovely brooches. When she came to the Pensevies, her gifts became more unique.

"You may find this somewhat familiar," she said, handing Lucy a small vial. "A powerful potion that can aid in the healing of wounds." She turned to hand Edmund what looked like a lantern of some sort. "For when you need to shine a light from a far distance." She moved to Susan and handed her a short blade, its curve shining in the light with an elegant design to the hilt. "A bow is good in battle but there will come a time when further protection is needed. This blade shall always help you find your mark." Finally, she moved to Peter and handed him a light helmet, the helm curved and covered with runes with a faceplate able to latch itself forward, a strap allowing it to be tied to one's back or belt. "If you are to charge in, best to be prepared to protect your head," she said with a smile.

The Fellowship all bowed as they were led to a set of boats by a long river cutting through the forest. The elves had granted them some supplies, including several loaves of some sort of bread that was quite nourishing and filling. The group soon piled into the boats and began to paddle down the river. Lucy glanced to the bank to see Galadriel standing, her white dress with a hood over her head. She raised a hand in farewell, her expression somber before turning to vanish into her forest.

"Not a bad sort," Edmund noted.

"Aye," Boromir said as he rowed. "It will be a shame for this land when they leave."

"Leave?" Lucy frowned from her place beside Edmund. "Leave where?"

"Their time in this world is ending," Boromir answered. "They are leaving for the Grey Lands, never to return."

"I don't understand," Lucy frowned.

"Many of their ways are beyond our understanding, young one," Boromir said with a shrug. "But it is something they are bound to. We can only hope the scourge of Sauron is dealt with before they depart."

In the second boat, a distance off, Peter kept an eye on the forest as they went on. He glanced at Glimli, the dwarf staring off in the distance. "What did she give you?" he asked, trying to break the monotony.

"The only thing a dwarf like myself could hope for from a lady like her," Gimli said wistfully. "A lock of her golden hair to remember her beauty forever."

Peter nodded before looking up at Aragorn. "I saw you and Celeborn talking," he said. "It seemed to trouble you."

Aragorn was silent, continuing to row so Peter narrowed his eyes at him. "Edmund was right before. If we're going to be in on this, we deserve the know the dangers."

Aragorn was quiet, glancing at Frodo and Sam, who were also in the boat. He kept his face calm as he spoke. "He spoke of strange orcs seen at their borders in daylight."

Frodo frowned, raising his head. He hadn't seemed to get much sleep. "I thought orcs didn't travel by daylight. It hurts them."

"These are not normal orcs," Aragorn said. "They are heavily armed and bear a mark of a white hand and an S."

"An S?" Sam frowned. "Sauron?"

Aragorn shook his head. "No, Sauron would not allow his right name used so freely. No, these are some twisted creation of Saruman."

"That's why we're going by river," Peter realized. "It's safer and avoids trouble from them."

Aragorn nodded. "Yes. Hopefully, we can reach the Falls of Rauros before them and from there, the pathways to Mordor."

Peter sat back as he gazed at the water. "How soon?"

"Tomorrow morning, I hope," Aragorn said. He paused. "Unless, they are able to run faster than orc as well."

Peter took that in, then quickly grabbed an extra oar to join in paddling.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

While speed was of the essence, Aragorn still insisted they rest for the evening at the riverside, citing how dangerous the waters were at night. The group tried to rest but sleep was hard to come by away from Lothlorien. Every snap of a twig, every chirp of a bird, every sound was enough to make them wary. Well, except for Merry and Pippin, who seemed able to sleep no matter the circumstances.

Peter was examining the shield when he became aware of Boromir and Aragorn standing by a rock near the riverbed, gazing outward. Frowning, he softly paced over to join them. "What is it?" he whispered.

"Gollum," Aragorn hissed.

"Gollum?" Peter nearly said in a loud voice before checking it. "The one who had the ring before?"

"He's been following us since Moria," Aragorn matter of factly said.

Peter blinked. "Moria? Wait, where did he come from?"

"The Enemy captured him months ago," Aragorn answered, his eyes still on the river, aimed at a log drifting by. "It was under their torture that he revealed the ring was in the hands of a hobbit named Baggins."

"And he escaped them?"

"More like he was set free," Boromir murmured. "No doubt to help lead them toward the Ringbearer."

Peter stared at Aragorn, his jaw clenching. "And exactly when were you going to share this rather pertinent piece of information with us?"

"I had hoped we would lose him on the river but he is too clever a waterman."

"If he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous," Boromir muttered. He looked to Aragorn. "Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there, we can regroup. Strike out from Mordor from a place of strength."

Aragorn's jaw set and Peter instantly sensed this was an old argument about to be rekindled. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," the man growled.

Boromir seemed to grow in anger although he kept his voice low. "You were quick enough to trust the elves! Why do you have so little faith in your own people?" He shook his head. "Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty. But there is also courage and honor to be found. But you will not see it!"

Aragorn turned away but Boromir grabbed his arm. "You are afraid!" Peter's jaw dropped. Whatever else he thought of Aragorn, a coward was not one of them. "All your life you have hidden in the shadows, sacred of who you are, what you are!" He shook his head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe the blood of Isildur is too strong within you."

Aragorn snapped at him as he leaned in. "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city. "That is the last time I will say it, Boromir, the very last." With that, he turned to stalk back to the camp.

Peter and Boromir stared at one another for a long moment. "He may be right," Peter said. At Boromir's glare, Peter quickly spoke. "I saw it. I felt that power. I know you have too. It's…it's evil, Boromir. That's why is has to be destroyed. To take it to a place where it can tempt more…"

Boromir sighed. "It is such a powerful weapon. If we can use it against the Enemy…"

"Boromir…I may not know all that much about this land of yours but if there's one thing I do know, it's evil. Not just in Narnia but our world as well. And the fact is, something born of evil can't be used for anything but evil. You'd better remember that." He looked ready to say more but stopped and walked back toward the camp, leaving Boromir to his thoughts.

Nearby, Sam was looking to Frodo. "You should eat, Mr. Frodo."

"Later," Frodo said.

Sam dropped his voice. "You haven't been eating. Don't think I haven't noticed. Please, Mr. Frodo, you need to keep your strength up."

Sitting nearby, Lucy couldn't help but overhead. "He's right. I've been on long distance trips myself and it really does help your spirits to keep eating."

Frodo wanted to say no to her but the smile and the look in her eyes was something he just couldn't resist. He managed a smile himself as he reached for a piece of the bacon Sam had been cooking and chewed on it. Lucy settled back, satisfied she'd done her job as she looked at the concerned expression of Peter. She wanted to ask what the argument was about but he just shook his head, letting her know it was best not to press it. With a sigh, she settled back to try to get some sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The night was not restful for anyone but they still needed to get an early start. The light of morning shone brightly on the river as they paddled their way through valleys, coming to a massive passage with a pair of huge statues carved into the rock. They appeared to be nobles, with robes and helmets detailed, each holding out a hand. "What are they?" Edmund asked, impressed.

"The Argonath," Gondor said with reverence. "The statues of Isildur and Anàrion, the first kings of Gondor. Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

Just past the Argonath, there lay a giant waterfall, split in two by a tall, wide rock. This, the children knew, had to be the Falls of Rauros. At Aragorn's direction, they pulled over to a riverbank to make camp.

"We cross the lake at nightfall." Aragorn said as he placed a bag of supplies down. "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the North."

"Oh, yes?" Gimli said dryly, smoking his pipe. "Just a simple matter, really, of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impossible labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see. Air that is so poisonous, it can choke you and let us not forget the hordes upon hordes of orcs ready to rip us to shreds!"

In what may have been a first, Pippin had actually stopped eating as he stared at Gimli, his face showing alarm at the dwarf's speech. For his part, Aragorn appeared quite calm. "Nonetheless, that is our route. I suggest you gather your strength, master Dwarf."

Gimli nearly choked on his pipe. "Conserve my strength?!" He grumbled under his breath as Aragorn walked to where Legolas and Peter were talking softly.

"We should go now," Peter whispered. "Legolas says he sense something nearby."

"We wait until nightfall," Aragorn said. "The eastern shore will be clear then."

"It is not the eastern shore that concerns me," Legolas remarked. "There is evil following us."

"There always is," Aragorn remarked as he walked off. He paused as he took in the camp and frowned. "Where is Frodo?"

The other two looked surprised, then alarmed as they looked about as well. "Boromir's missing too," Peter said. "I saw him heading for firewood but…"

Aragorn bit his lip. "Legolas, stay here with the others. Peter, come with me."

Susan frowned as she saw them moving. "Where are you going?"

"Stay here," Peter told her. "No arguments, Su," he added as she opened her mouth. She pouted as they stalked into the forest. "You're worried about Boromir," Peter softly said.

"He has felt the temptation of the Ring before," Aragorn said as he looked around. He glanced back at Peter. "So have you, I believe."

Peter sighed. "I have. I tried not to but…" He paused before speaking again. "They say you may be king."

"It is not something I want," Aragorn said. "I have never felt comfortable with that lineage. I do not wish to impose my will on others."

Peter stared at him as they moved over the leafy hills near the river, passing by trees. "I don't think that's it," he spoke up. "I think you just don't want the responsibility." At Argorn's sharp look, he went on. "I know how it feels. I'm the oldest, I've always had to look after everyone, even more since our father left. And I know what it's like to have a throne and crown thrust on you and have to deal with it. But if it's what fate has in mind, you will have to handle it."

"I do not care for my fate," Aragorn muttered.

"For what it's worth, I think you'd make a good king," Peter said. He tried a stab at humor. "Of course, you will have to be shaved a lot cleaner." Aragorn gave him a hard look and Peter decided humor wasn't the best tactic. Suddenly, the sounds of voices got their attention, one calling out loudly "FRODO!"

The two quickly raced up a hilltop, a set of stone croppings near them, a set of stairs leading to a platform and an archway. It might have been some sort of palace long ago but was ruins now. "Frodo!" Aragorn called out. "Frodo!"

The hobbit…appeared before them in an archway. There was no other word for it. One moment, there was nothing, then Frodo stood, looking weary and frightened, his hand clutched around a chain. Peter remembered the others saying the ring had the power to make the bearer invisible but hadn't quite believed it.

The hobbit swallowed as he saw them. "It has taken Boromir."

"Where is the Ring?" Aragon hissed as he stepped forward.

"Stay away!" Frodo cried out as he backed away toward the steps.

"Frodo," Aragorn said in a softer voice. He held his arms up to indicate he wouldn't harm the hobbit. "I swore to protect you."

Frodo swallowed again. "Can you protect me from yourself?" He opened his palm and the ring was shown. "Would you destroy it?"

Peter instinctively looked away but could still feel the call of that sinister object. Oddly, it appeared…blocked somehow as if its attention (Peter realized with a start he was thinking of the thing as being alive) was fixed on Aragorn. The man stared at the ring as he stepped forward, Frodo's eyes fearful but holding onto the band. Peter reached to his sword, ready to step in if Aragorn made a move for the Ring…and hoping it would be to protect Frodo, not take it for himself.

Slowly, Aragorn reached forward and put his hand on Frodo's, closing it over the ring. He pushed it back to Frodo, his expression soft. "I would have gone with you to the end," he whispered in a choked voice. "Into the very fires of Mordor."

Frodo nodded, relief on his features. "I know." He took a deep breath, making a decision. "Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand."

Peter understood and his eyes went wide. "You're going alone? Frodo, that's suicide!"

"It is my task," Frodo told him. "I will not put your family in danger because of it."

"We are stronger in numbers," Peter said, moving forward. "It's our duty to help you."

"I cannot ask…" Frodo broke off as Aragorn stood up. "Frodo, your sword!"

Frodo reached for Sting at his hip, pulling it out of its scabbard to show it was glowing. At the same moment, Peter saw movement at the bottom of the hill and looked down. "Aragorn!" he gasped. "Orcs!"

Aragorn drew his sword as he looked to Frodo. "Run, Frodo. Run!" The hobbit took one look at him then turned to bolt in the opposite direction.

Peter had slid the helmet onto his head, taking a deep breath. "Here's hoping elven craftsmanship is good," he remarked as he fastened it. He felt his heart beat as the orcs swarmed up the hill. They were much larger than the ones in Moria, more like men but still having grey skin and black clothes with hideous features. Many bore huge sharp blades with pointed shields and complicated armor. They also bore on helmets and faces a white mark that looked like a hand with an "S" symbol.

Aragorn appeared amazingly calm, almost smiling as he lifted his sword to his face in a salute. He started to swing it, cutting down a pair of orcs at their feet as he fought with others. Peter ducked his head to avoid a blow as he sliced his own sword out, cutting down a pair, stabbing a third in the throat and pulling back to kick another. Aragorn was moving up the stone staircase nearby, fighting more orcs as Peter blocked the blows of others, grateful once more for two decades of fighting memories in his mind to help him out.

One orc stood taller than the rest, his face tight with reddish skin and braided hair, evidently the leader. "Find the Halflings!" he called out. "Find the Halflings!" At his command, a set of orcs broke away and headed to the forest. "They're going after the others!" Peter called out as he sliced one charging orc down.

Aragorn leapt off the stone platform, landing right on a pair of attackers. He was rising as another kicked him in the face, stunning him. Peter tried to get to him but was too busy handling the attack of a pair of orcs. One of the armored enemies raised his blade up at Aragorn, only to be cut down by an arrow, another sailing to stab the orc behind him.

Legolas and Susan burst onto the area, each firing off arrows. Gimli was behind them, throwing a dagger into an orc's head before cutting one off at the legs with his axe. Susan fired an arrow into the orc Peter was fighting, shaking her head. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" she asked as she nocked another arrow into her bow.

"We need to get to the others!" Aragorn called out as he rose up. An orc charged at him and he stabbed it with a dagger before slamming his head into the stone cropping.

"Edmund and Lucy are back there with them!" Susan called out. She watched as Legolas stabbed an arrow into an orc's throat, then fired it from his bow, sending it right through one orc so the tip pierced the one behind the first, sending both down. "We need to get to them!"

"Well, if you think calling a time-out will help, feel free!" Peter yelled as he cut an orc down and the waves continued to swarm.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Edmund had been doing a quick patrol near the area, trying to find Boromir when he heard the sounds of the battle. He was moving to the hills when he saw some of the Uruk-Hai charging down the hills, shields and blades raised. Edmund ducked at one's attack, sending him flying over his back and stood up to stab another. He backed up, doing his best to keep out of lethal harm while fighting them off. He had never been Peter's equal in battle but was still able to hold his own well.

"Hey!" Edmund looked up to see Merry and Pippin on the hill a distance away, waving their hands at the Uruks. "Hey, over here!" The two began to race down, yelling more to draw attention, making Edmund wonder if they had finally taken leave of their senses.

"What are you two doing?!" he yelled as they raced by him.

"They're after Frodo!" Merry said. "We need to distract them and give him a chance to escape!"

Realizing they were right, Edmund moved with them, blocking one orc's attack as they made their way to a small stone bridge. He moved toward the river only to see a pair of Uruks moving from that direction. He turned to see more charging forward and swallowed, trying to figure a strategy as the lead Uruk charged in, his blade raised high.

In a blur, Boromir was there, grabbing the orc's arms to hold the blade up and kicking him between the legs. Whatever else, the creatures were male, this one crying in pain, allowing Edmund to stab it in the side. Boromir threw out a dagger to cut one down as he and Edmund led Merry and Pippin away. "Thanks," Edmund said.

"Do not thank me yet," Boromir sighed. "I may not deserve it." His face seemed drawn, his eyes filled with guilt but Edmund had no time to ask what he meant as they fought on.

Above, the battle at the rock was continuing, Susan and Legolas cutting down orcs from a distance with their arrows while Gimli, Aragorn and Peter sliced down others with their swords and axe. Peter saw one charging at him and grabbed him, using the momentum to slam the Uruk into a tree, the creature bouncing off and running right into the boy's sword. Aragorn kicked one to the ground, held his blade to its neck and sliced it expertly.

Legolas had just killed five in as many seconds when a loud booming sound echoed in the air. "The Horn of Gondor!"

"Boromir!" Aragorn called out as he charged down the hill, the others quickly behind him. They came across even more Uruks and it became a running battle down the hillside.

It was much the same far below, past the stone stairs set in the forest bed as Edmund, Boromir, Merry and Pippin continued to fight their way past orcs. The two hobbits were in the lead running back, Edmund behind, Boromir alternating between blowing his horn and fighting Uruks. They paused at one point to face a new wave of attackers that raced down a hill at them.

Edmund was knocking one down and stabbing him to the ground, rising when he saw the large Uruk leader at the nearest hill, placing an arrow into his bow and aiming it at them. "Boromir, look out!" he called.

The warning came as the arrow was loosened and instinctively at the cry, Boromir twisted his body. As such, the arrow, meant for just above his heart, instead impacted his shoulder. Boromir cried out in pain, staggering back for a moment, falling to one knee. He snarled and rose up, swinging his sword out to cut down another Uruk and another. Edmund was amazed to see his friend fighting on despite the obvious pain.

He saw the Uruk moving to fire another arrow and leapt forward to shove Boromir aside. The arrow streaked out, just barely missing Edmund's ear by an inch and burying itself into a tree. The two fell together, both gasping and an orc kicked Boromir in the head, stunning him.

Edmund tried to rise up but the same Uruk kicked him in the face and as he fell back, another pinned his sword arm to the ground with a boot. Merry and Pippin both cried out as they raced forward but a pair of Uruks easily picked them up and slung them over their backs. "Take them!" their leader snarled out. "All three!"

Edmund gasped as he was picked up by a pair of orcs. He tried to fight but one belted him in the back of his head with the hilt of his blade and darkness took the young man.

Boromir's head was ringing as she slowly sat up on his knees. His shoulder stung from the agony of the arrow but the agony of his heart was greater as she saw the struggling hobbits and limp Edmund being taken away. This was his fault, all of it. His own desire and obsession had led them to ruin.

He became aware of a shadow before him and looked up to see the Uruk leader standing before him, a wicked grin on his face as he put an arrow into his bow. Boromir took a deep breath and set his face. If this creature expected him to beg for his life, he would not indulge it. He may have made a mistake before but at least he could show this monster how a man of Gondor met his end with honor. He watched the bow be pulled back and said a soft prayer as he readied himself for death…

With a cry, Aragorn lunged out to tackle the Uruk down. The two rolled about on the ground, the Uruk up first with a blade and kicking at the fallen Aragorn. The man rolled with it and came back to stab the creature in the leg with his knife. The Uruk howled before kicking him back, grabbing the knife, pulling it out and actually licking his own blood off the blade.

"That is incredibly disgusting." The Uruk turned to see Peter charging in, his sword swinging out. The orc leapt back to avoid the blade, swinging his own weapon, the two meeting with a loud clash of steel on steel. The Uruk was quite powerful as he swung a fist out to smack into Peter's head. He gritted his teeth but was surprised the blow wasn't as damaging as he thought it would be. The Uruk grunted as his knuckles cracked on the elven armor but kept the attack up. One blow was powerful enough to knock Peter off-balance and a kick by the Uruk knocked him back.

Hearing movement behind him, the orc turned in time for Aragorn to bury his blade into his mid-section. The Uruk stared down at it, then at Aragorn, then yelled out in rage. He actually walked forward, letting the blade run all the way through his body as he kept yelling out. With a yell of his own, Aragorn yanked his sword out, spun and nearly beheaded the creature.

As the corpse fell, Aragorn took a deep breath, wiping blood from his mouth. He saw the fallen man nearby and raced to him. "Boromir!"

The man winced, a hand gripping the arrow at his shoulder. "Where is Frodo?" he hissed.

Aragorn spoke softly. "I sent him away."

Boromir nodded. "Then you did what I could not." He closed his eyes in shame. "I tried to take the Ring from him…forgive me…"

"You fought bravely to defend his friends," Aragorn said in a non-judgmental tone. "In my eyes, it redeems you." He gripped the arrow. "This will hurt."

Boromir set his teeth and nodded. With a tug, Aragorn yanked the arrow out, the man hissing in pain. Peter was already there, tearing a piece of cloth off a fallen Uruk to start to bind the wound.

"They took Merry and Pippin," Boromir said. "And Edmund too."

Peter closed his eyes. "Damn." They opened as he looked about. "What about Lucy?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Frodo stood at the bank of the river, the Ring in his hand, staring forward. He didn't register the battle ending or the sounds behind him. He could only think of the task before him and how it was his duty to tackle it alone. He slipped the ring back into his coat as he moved forward.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lucy stepped out, arms crossed and fixing Frodo with a hard gaze.

Frodo sighed as he looked back at her. "I have to do this alone, Lucy. It's my task. Only I can take it."

"Not alone, you're not!" Lucy said. "And don't be arguing with me, Frodo! You know it's too dangerous alone!"

"It's also too dangerous for anyone else," Frodo said. "Especially a girl."

It didn't expect Lucy's eyes to flare at that. "I was a girl when I helped defeat a witch, save a land and become Queen, Frodo. You're not the only one older than they look, you know. If you're going, then so am I."

"And me!" Sam said as he burst out of the forest.

"No!" Frodo said, moving to the boat. "I'm going alone!"

"I know!" Sam said. "And I'm going with you!"

"And me!" Lucy chimed in, ignoring the flawed logic as the two moved to the boat, Sam throwing his bag into it and then helping Lucy inside.

"Sam," Frodo pleadingly began.

His oldest friend looked at him with true emotion. "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee! You want to make me a liar?"

Frodo laughed. He couldn't help it, it just came out as he saw the resolute faces on the pair and pushed the boat off the shore, leaping into it. He and Sam took the oars to row across the riverbed. "Won't your brothers and sister be upset by you going this way?" he asked Lucy.

"Furious," she replied with a smile. "That's half the fun in going." She kept the smile up, trying her best to ignore the danger closing in around them.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was a few minutes later that Boromir, Peter, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Susan came to the river bank to find one of the boats gone. Aragorn quickly examined the tracks near the river. "Two hobbits…and a small human." He nodded. "Frodo left and I would imagine Sam and Lucy went with them."

"I'll kill her," Susan immediately said then winced at her own words.

Legolas quickly moved to another boat. "We can catch up to them soon if we leave now." He paused as he saw Aragorn simply standing by. "You mean not to follow them," he said in realization.

Aragorn sighed as he looked up at him. "The path of the Ringbearer is his now. And Sam and Lucy have their parts to play as well."

"Then the Fellowship has failed," Gimli grumbled.

"No," Boromir said as he stepped forward, rubbing his bound shoulder. "If we keep to the ideas that brought us together, the Fellowship's heart can remain." He took a deep breath. "The Ring may be out of our hands now but we still have a task remaining. I let the orcs capture Merry, Pippin and Edmund. I must rescue them."

"Not alone, you're not," Peter said. "Edmund's our brother, we're damn sure going to help you with him."

"Peter," Susan said, taking his arm. "What about Lucy?"

Peter sighed. "I don't like it either, Su but…Come on, we both know Lucy has a habit of getting out of amazing scrapes and winning the day to boot. If nothing else, she can help them even better."

Susan bit her lip before nodding. "I suppose."

Peter smiled. "Besides, of the two, which has historically been the one to need us to get him out of trouble?"

"Edmund," Susan agreed with a smile. "You're right, we have to help him out."

Aragorn nodded as he slipped a dagger into his belt. "Take only what we need. We travel light." He slung his sword over his back and smiled to them. "Let us hunt orc."

Gimli let out a yell of approval as the group followed Aragorn through the forest and to their new path.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**A bit long but this was a pivotal chapter. Next one picks up with the orc hunt as I let a few more of my own touches through the tale. **


	7. Of Orcs, Ents and Riders

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Of Orcs, Ents and Riders**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

For a normal person, spending the better part of three days in the captivity of a bank of heavily armed Uruk-Hai would fill one's heart with terror. For Edmund, all he was feeling was an annoying case of déjà vu.

He winced as the Uruk carrying him leapt over a log, bouncing both of them. Edmund had his arms bound around the orc's neck, just as Merry and Pippin did with other Uruks. Edmund's head had cleared from the blow earlier but he still was in no position to try and escape. _Well, at least you're not tied to a tree this time._

Whatever else, the Uruks showed amazing stamina, running across the wide open plains before them without pause, barely stopping for any rest or food. They seemed intent on delivering their captives someplace but ignored any questions to what that was.

Edmund looked behind toward Merry and Pippin. Pippin seemed all right, if frightened while Merry had his eyes shut, blood on his temple from a blow when he was captured. He'd gotten some water earlier and tried to put a brave face on it, sounding like he was acting to get it but Edmund knew he was in pain.

He wished he knew what had happened to Boromir and his siblings. He knew they were alive. He didn't know how but something told him they were all right. Knowing them, they'd try to rescue him no matter what and he could only hope it was soon.

His attention was caught as the Uruks paused before a large cropping of rocks. Before them was a number of regular orcs, all armed and looking annoyed. "You're late," their leader said. "Our master is impatient. He wants the Shire rats now."

The leader of the Uruks glared at him. "We don't answer to orc-maggots! Saruman will have his prize."

_Oh, wonderful, _Edmund thought to himself. _The two bands of monsters hate each other as much as humans._ He glanced over to see Pippin apparently chewing on his cloak. It took Edmund a moment to realize he was getting the leaf brooch off his cloak. As the orcs began to run again, Pippin spat it into the ground behind them. Edmund managed a smile as they rushed off into the plains.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Even as a child, Peter had never been known for his patience. Teenage years and adulthood and back to teenage years had done little to solve that. Given that his brother was in mortal danger and his little sister was sailing into the same, it was no surprise that his temper was growing. Getting roughly four hours of sleep in the last three days only added to it. So it was understandable that he was at the point of snapping at the sight of Aragorn stretched out on some rocks, eyes shut and his ear to the ground.

"Do you really hear anything or have you fallen asleep?" Peter demanded.

Aragorn opened his eyes. "They are moving," he hissed. "They must have caught our scent." He rose to his feet. "Come!" He began to run, Peter sighing before following.

Behind them, Legolas rose up the small hill, glancing behind him. "Come on, Gimli!" The dwarf let out a huff as he followed up the hill, Susan next to him. "Three days of pursuit, little sleep, little food and nothing to show for it."

"Come on!" Susan said, grabbing him by the arm to drag him onward. "I don't like it any more than you do but we need to follow them!"

"I never said I was quitting, girl!" the dwarf grumbled as he picked up his pace. "We dwarves aren't up for long-distance running is all. We're natural sprinters, very dangerous in short distances!"

Susan had to smile as she followed the others up the hill and across more plains. It was hard, the hardest traveling she'd ever done in her life but she was finding reservoirs of strength she didn't know she had to help her along. She followed them as they made their way down a hill and to a cropping of rocks. Behind her, Gimli let out a yell as he tripped on a rock, falling down in a heap at the bottom of the hill. Rolling her eyes, Susan helped him to his feet, noting how, no matter the world, dwarves were not an agile lot.

Boromir was at the rear, still wincing from his shoulder wound. He'd kept mostly silent during their pursuit and Susan suspected that something had happened back at the riverbank that he was not comfortable talking of. She wanted to know what but they'd had no time to converse. Whatever it was, the man seemed intent on reaching the hobbits and Edmund, even more than Peter and Susan were.

Aragorn had been kneeling on the ground and rose, his hand holding something. He turned to show them a leaf-shaped brooch. "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he intoned.

"They must have dropped it as a sign they were here," Peter deduced.

Aragorn nodded as he led them up a hill by the rocks which overlooked a huge landscape of plains. Despite their weariness, the siblings were impressed by the amazing area and it's beautiful, unsoiled nature. "Where are we anyway?" Susan asked.

"Behold the Plains of Rhoan," Boromir declared. "Home to the Horse-Masters. Ruled by Théoden, a long ally of Gondor."

Aragorn frowned as Legolas moved before him. "Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets them against our progress." He looked into the distance. "Legolas! What do your elf eyes see?"

Legolas was standing on a large rock a few feet before him, peering at a black mark in the distance. "The orcs are heading eastward!" he called back. "They are taking them to Isengard!"

"Saruman," Aragorn muttered.

"That's that evil wizard you were telling us about?" Peter asked.

Aragorn nodded. "He was once a great force of good but he has turned to darkness now. When Gandalf discovered the Ring was in the Shire, he went to Saruman for advice only to be held prisoner. Before he escaped, he saw the Saruman was destroying the forests of Isengard, to fuel machinery to forge soldiers and arms."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "So the Industrial Revolution comes via an evil wizard. Interesting."

"It is not right," Legolas scowled. "A wizard should know better than to ruin the land such as that."

"We must hurry," Boromir said, moving forward. "We have to catch them before they reach his lands."

"My horse, my horse, my kingdom for a horse," Peter quoted as the group began to run again.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Night had fallen as the band of orcs came to a clearing near a forest, a cliff looking over the plains. Many were panting with exertion, falling to the ground, one calling out. "We're not going no further till we've had a breather!" Oddly, Edmund wondered exactly how orcs learned to talk like people from the rougher parts of London.

The Uruk leader growled before nodding. "Get a fire going!"

The orcs moved to set up a camp and Edmund, Merry and Pippin were unceremoniously dumped to the ground. Merry had his eyes shut as Pippin moved in. "Merry? Merry!" he hissed.

Merry's eyes blinked open as he tried to speak. "I think…we might have made a mistake…leaving the Shire, Pip." Pippin let out a laugh, more of relief than humor.

A pack of orcs were using their axes to cut down some trees for firewood. They started as the roots seemed to move up on their own and a loud groan echoed from the forest.

"What's that noise?" Pippin whispered.

Merry was staring out at the forest, more alert. "It's…the trees."

"What?"

"Do you remember the old forest on the border of Buckland?" Merry said. "Folks used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall…" His eyes seemed to light up. "And come alive."

"Alive?" Edmund asked with interest.

Merry nodded. "They'd whisper. Talk to each other. Even move."

Nearby, an orc growled as he threw a piece of meat down. "We ain't had nothing to eat but this stinking trash for three stinking days!"

"Yeah," another orc sneered. "Why can't we have some meat?" His eyes fell on the captives and widened. "What about them? They're fresh?" He licked his lips as the trio swallowed in unison.

"They are not for eating!" The Uruk leader snarled as he stood up, a few others joining him. Some of the orcs were now standing behind the first, gazing at the captives as they were dragged to their feet.

One orc with a long face and wide eyes looked at them. "What about their legs? They don't need those." He moved forward only to be shoved back by the Uruk leader.

"They are prisoners for Saruman," he growled. "Alive and unspoiled. They have something, an elvish weapon. The master wants it for the war."

"Weapon?" Pippin looked at the other two with surprise. "They think we have the Ring."

"Shh!" Merry hissed. "As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead."

Edmund felt hot breath flare on his neck and craned his head to see an orc right behind him, licking his lips. "Just a mouth full…a bit of the flank…"

From the corner of his eye, Edmund saw a flash of silver and instinctively ducked his head. He saw the blade fly over him, cutting the orc's head right off. The body fell behind, the head falling at the hobbit's feet, its tongue still at its lips.

The Uruk leader made a grim smile as he hefted his sword. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" With a loud cheer, the orcs and Uruks descended on the corpse like sharks to meat. "And they're cannibals too, of course," Edmund weakly said.

Merry watched the orcs feed and realized none of them were watching the captives. "Come on, here's our chance!" He pushed Pippin to the ground and started to crawl toward the trees nearby. Edmund quickly followed them, sparing a quick glance behind. They'd gotten a few feet before an orc boot stamped down on Merry's back and the long-faced orc pushed Pippin onto his back. "I still want my own meats, Halfling!" he hissed.

Edmund moved forward but the orc kicked him in the face, stunning him. He held his blade up before Pippin's face. "Go on…squeal! No one's gonna save you now!"

There was a whistling sound and suddenly, a long spear was plunged into the orc's back. He howled in pain as he fell forward, grabbing at the spear. The other orcs were alerted but their glances at the source of the sound were overwhelmed by the furious beats of hooves.

As if coming from the shadows, a horde of humans on horses rode into the camp, hurling spears before them. All were dressed in armor and helmets, wielding swords, spears and arrows as they charged into the orcs, cutting down any in their path. The orcs and Uruks moved to defend themselves but they were caught by surprise, most going down before they could even raise their swords. Many tried to run but the arrows of riders cut them down.

In the chaos, Merry, Pippin and Edmund did their best to run away, avoiding horses and orcs. Pippin fell to the ground, turning over and yelling as a horse reared before him, the hooves inches from his face. Edmund managed to get him out of the way in time. Seeing a fallen orc, Edmund was pleasantly surprised to see his own sword tied to the back. He moved to it, managing to rub the ropes on his wrists against the blade, cutting through it. Grabbing his sword loose, he cut the bonds on Merry and Pippin. "Come on, into the forest!" he yelled as the trio broke away. Edmund spared a glance behind to see the massacre of the monstrous creatures unfolding. _Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch. _It might not have been a nice thought but it seemed fitting.

The trio ran through the forest, the thick trees blocking out almost all moonlight. "Where are we going?" Pippin yelled from the front.

"Don't know, don't care, just keep running!" Merry yelled, pushing him along. Edmund spared a glance behind and as such, failed to see the snarled root that caught his foot and tripped him up. Merry and Pippin looked behind to see him fall and moved to help only to freeze as another shape came through the forest.

"I'm gonna cut you all up!" the long-faced orc howled, wincing at the pain of the spear wound but still intent as he hefted his sword. Edmund scrambled to his feet, calling back to the hobbits. "Run, I'll hold him off!" He blocked the first blow as the two backed away.

"Up the tree, Pip!" Merry said, pointing to a nearby tree reaching up toward the sky. The two hobbits were quick to scramble up it, watching as Edmund dueled the orc, holding his own well but the creature's ferocity giving him strength. Pippin gripped the top of the tree, Merry right below him. "Edmund!" he called out. He glanced to the tree in time to see its eyes open, then looked back…

The stopped as he realized he'd just seen the tree's eyes open.

He slowly craned around and saw them once more. A pair of deep yellow eyes set in the tree bark. At their opening, the tree seemed to transform, a nook now a nose, the moss a long mustache and beard and the branches moving as if arms. With a yelp, Pippin fell backward but was caught by a hand of wood. Merry also yelled out as the branches around him closed like a fist, tossing him into the "hand" carrying Pippin. With a groan, the tree's roots broke off from the ground, seeming to break into legs as it stepped forward.

The orc had knocked Edmund down and was preparing to strike when he saw a shadow fall over him. Turning, it stared in utter disbelief at the root held over his head and didn't even dodge as it slammed down, crushing him into the ground. Edmund stared in wonder as the tree-being came at him and, with surprising speed, plucked him right off the ground with its free hand.

Edmund grunted as the tree held him in one hand, the hobbits in the other, those yellow eyes glancing at them. "Hmmm…." It rumbled from a break in its trunk. "Little orcs…Burarum…"

"It's talking Merry," Pippin squeaked. "The tree is talking."

"Tree?" the creature boomed. "I am no tree! I am an Ent."

"An Ent!" Merry said with a smile of wonder. "A treeherder! A shepherd of the forest." He glanced up. "Do you have a name?"

Pippin stared at his friend in disbelief. "Don't talk to it, Merry! Don't encourage it!"

"Treebeard some call me," the creature said. "Treebeard shall do for you, hmmm…"

Edmund swallowed as he settled himself. Having spent the better part of two decades with talking animals, accepting having a conversation with a giant tree wasn't as difficult with him. "If I may ask, sir, whose side are you on?"

"Sides?" Treebeard said as if insulted. "I am on nobody's side because nobody is on mine, little Orc. No one cares for the woods anymore."

"We're not orcs!" Merry said. "We're hobbits."

"Hobbits?" Treebread's moss wiggled as if in a frown. "Never heard of a hobbit before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me." As he spoke, he kept them walking through the thick forest, his grip tightening on them all until they were gasping in pain. "They come with fire. They come with axes. Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning!" He was actually snarling at this point. "Destroyers and usurpers, curse them!"

"No, we're hobbits!" Merry cried out. "Halflings! Shirefolk!"

"And I'm human!" Edmund threw in. "Son of Adam!"

"Maybe you are and maybe you are not," Treebeard intoned. "The White Wizard will know."

"The White Wizard?" Edmund repeated.

"Saruman," Merry groaned.

Without warning, Treebeard let go, dumping the three of them onto the ground. They all saw a pair of white shoes and the edge of a white robe on the ground before them. They slowly looked up to see a figure clothed in white and a white glow about him and all three said the same thing at once.

"Bloody hell…"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I'm not complaining, I'm truly not," Susan huffed as the group hurried across the plains in the dim lighting. "But I believe my blisters are getting blisters."

"We had our rest in the dark," Aragorn said over his shoulder.

"Two hours is not enough," Susan gasped. She grit her teeth as she kept going. The sun was rising, promising another day of endless running and little rest. Peter seemed wearied as well but was holding it together, refusing to show weakness as usual. Gimli was doing enough complaining for all of them but no one was thinking of quitting.

She saw Legolas stop and look behind her. She looked back but saw nothing odd but the rising sun with a reddish haze to it. "What is it?" she asked as she turned back.

"A red sun rises," the elf gravely said. "Blood has been spilled this night."

Susan frowned but the elf seemed sure of what he said. Given the strangeness she had seen in this land already, she was willing to listen to him, as sobering as it sounded.

Aragorn paused by some rocks to study the ground, looking at the tracks. The whinny of horses got his attention as he rose. He motioned to the others and they quickly ran to a nearby cropping of rocks, Peter pulling Gimli along. They'd just taken refuge when a horde of horsemen rode past them. There were nearly forty of them in all, all in suits of brown armor, green cloaks and helmets, many carrying long spears.

"Soldiers of the Rohirrim," Boromir said, recognizing the armor.

Aragorn nodded as he stood up, calling out in a loud voice. "Riders of Rhoan! What news from the Mark?"

Peter frowned at him. In his mind, drawing the attention of a group of soldiers who outnumbered you five to one and whose loyalties were in question fell just slightly into the category of questionable strategy. But he decided to let Aragorn handle the situation here until they knew better.

The platoon was racing down the hill when their leader held up his spear. With astonishing skill and speed, the entire line checked themselves and turned, riding toward the Fellowship. The others came out of hiding to join Aragon, Boromir and Legolas exchanging concerned looks. The horsemen began to surround them in a series of wide circles until the six were completely closed off. Then, in perfect unison, they all lowered their spears at the members of the Fellowship.

Aragorn held up his hands to indicate they meant no harm, Peter and Susan following his lead. The leader of the soldiers, his armor brighter and more elaborate than the others, rode into the center of the circle. His cold gaze raked across the six before he spoke. "What business do men, a girl, an elf and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Susan frowned, put out by Peter counted as a man while she was named a girl. Peter himself spoke up. "We're searching for friends of ours. We hope you have information that may help us. We've come through the forest of Lothlorien and the blessing of the Lady is with us."

He had hoped that would be a sign of their good intentions but it didn't go as he'd expected. The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks as their leader raised an eyebrow. "So, there is a witch there as the old tales tell. Perhaps you are also net-weavers like her. Tell me your names."

Gimli did not hold back his own barked words. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine and more besides."

"I am Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," the man identified himself.

"Well, then, Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," Gimli shot back, lacing every word with heavy sarcasm. "You speak ill of that which is fair beyond your comprehension and only the little wit you obviously have can excuse you!"

Peter closed his eyes. "You could have put it slightly more diplomatically," he muttered.

Eomer stared at him for a moment before handing his spear to another soldier and dismounting. He marched to where Gimli stood and glared at him with anger. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, dwarf…if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a flash of movement, Legolas had an arrow nocked and aimed right at Eomer's face. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he barked.

All of the horsemen raised their spears, letting Legolas know that the instant his arrow loosened, he, and the others, would each be impaled a dozen times over. Susan looked skyward. _Men, always letting their foolishness make things difficult._

The lessons of his youth in etiquette came to Boromir as he moved forward. "Your pardon, Eomer!" he called out. "When you know more of our quest, you will understand why you have angered my companions. Will you at least hear us out?"

Eomer stared at him, his eyes taking in Boromir's clothing. "A man of Gondor," he said, recognizing the style. "Why do you ride with them?"

Aragon had placed a hand on Legolas' arm to lower the bow. Gimli let out a low whistle of relief before noticing the twin glares of Boromir and Peter. Legolas found himself getting a glare from Susan that would do an elf lord proud.

The riders lowered their spears as well as the Ranger faced Eomer. "I am Aragon, son of Arathon. This is Gimli, Son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realms and Boromir, son of Denethor." There were some surprised looks on the faces of the riders as they realized the son of the Steward was with the party. The surprise was greater to some who saw how Boromir seemed to be letting this strange Ranger take lead of the party. "Also, this is Peter of Narnia and his sister, Susan." The two noticed he didn't mention their royalty and agreed it was best not to complicate the situation more.

Aragon continued. "We are friends of Rhoan and of Théoden, your king."

Eomer sighed as he reached to his helmet. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He pulled the helm off to reveal his bearded face. "Not even his own kin."

"Eomer…" Boromir paused as the name came to him. "Théoden is your uncle."

The man nodded. "Yes. But now Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and gained lordship over these lands." He motioned to the riders around him. "I and my men are loyal to Rhoan. And for that, we are banished."

"Banished?" Peter frowned. "How can he banish you?"

"The orders came from Grima Wormtongue, his counsul." Several soldiers turned and spat on the ground at the mention of the name. "It is Grima who has been…advising our Lord to ignore the orcs and Dunlanders attacking our lands."

Peter and Susan exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing: There was no possible way a man with a name like that could be a decent sort.

"Dunlanders?" Boromir asked with a frown. "I thought those wildmen had been driven out of Rhoan long ago."

"They have returned, in great number," Eomer said. "They are driven themselves now, committed to destroying all in their path. No doubt, on the orders of Saruman."

Eomer leaned forward, his voice lowering. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." His cold eyes fell on the elf and dwarf and with obvious suspicion, he finished. "And everywhere his spies circulate."

"We are not spies," Peter quickly stated. He was aware Legolas was seething and even he was having impatience at this man's beliefs.

"We track a party of orcs westward," Aragon explained. "They have taken three of our company captive."

Eomer nodded. "The orcs are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"Did you see two hobbits?" Gimli quickly asked. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"Hobbits?" a soldier laughed in disbelief. "As in Halflings? Lord Eomer, let us leave these wild folk to their fancies! Halflings are only a little people out of fairy tales from the South!"

"They're quite real, I can assure," Susan said. Eomer gazed at her, as if surprised at her speaking. It was starting to annoy Susan that her Queen title wasn't much of a factor here.

"They would be small," Boromir added. "Only children to your eyes."

"And our brother," Susan quickly interjected. "He's only a few years younger than we are."

"We saw none but orcs," Eomer declared. "We left none alive." He pointed to the horizon. "We stacked their bodies and burned them as is our custom."

A chilling silence came over the Fellowship. "Dead?" Gimli whispered.

Eomer nodded. "I'm sorry."

Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder, whether to steady the dwarf or himself uncertain. Boromir closed his eyes and felt a new pang of guilt. Susan closed her own eyes, as if fighting back tears through sheer force of will while Peter set his jaw. "We need to see them. To be sure."

Eomer gazed at him as if sensing the younger man's pain. He turned and let out a short whistle. A trio of horses came forward with empty saddles. "May these horses bring you to better fortunes than their former masters," he stated.

He replaced his helmet and moved back to his own horse. He paused long enough to say one last thing. "Look to your friends but do not look to hope. It has forsaken these lands." With a kick of the spurs, he set off and the rest of the company followed him, leaving the party behind.

The group watched him go, lost in their own thoughts. "There is always hope," Aragorn said, his voice tight.

"We have to find out, one way or another," Peter said as he moved to a horse."

"If nothing else, we can give them a better burial than a funeral pyre," Gimli muttered. He felt a pain at his shoulder and looked up to see Boromir glaring at him and nodding toward the two children. The dwarf mentally kicked himself for the comment and decided to keep silent as Boromir lifted him onto a horse.

Peter took the reins of one, Susan behind him and he gave her his best big brother smile of reassurance. "He's gotten out of tougher scrapes."

"No, he hasn't," she answered. "But thanks for trying."

Peter sighed as the group began to ride into the smoke in the distance.


	8. Findings in the Forest

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Findings in the Forest**

** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The smoke had been visible from nearly a mile away and the fetid odor hit them when they were thirty yards close. The mass piling of blackened corpses was impossible to miss, smoke still rising although the flames had gone out long ago. A haze of insects flew overhead, drawn to the bodies now that they had stopped burning. Standing before the pile was a grim signpost: The head of the lead orc, its face twisted as it was stuck on top of a long spear.

Despite herself, Susan couldn't help gagging at the sight. "That is so disgusting."

"It's meant as a warning to other orc," Boromir said. "A sign that Rohan is still protected." He forced a grim smile. "The Rohirrim have a flair for the dramatic at times."

They dismounted and moved toward the pile, pausing to stare at it. No one wanted to look through it. It wasn't just the grisly task of searching through the mutilated and burned remains. It was also the fear of what they might find. With a tired sigh, Gimli moved forward, probing through the pile with his axe. "Always the dwarf who has to handle the dirty jobs," he muttered. "Wouldn't do for you to muss up your fine hair, would it, elf!"

Legolas did not rise to the bait. He simply stood aside with the others, all keeping stoic as they waited for word, one way or another. There were a few more minutes of Gimli searching and then he stopped. He backed up, clutching a piece of fabric in his hand, pulled from the middle of the pile. "It's one of their wee belts," he said in a choked voice.

Legolas closed his eyes and bowed his head as he whispered an elvish prayer. Boromir was joining him. "No…" Susan whispered, the tears she'd been fighting coming to her eyes. She fell against Peter, burying her head in his chest as she started to sob. He held her, stroking her hair as he stared, unable to accept it. Aragorn kicked a loose helmet away, letting out a cry of agony as he fell to his knees.

"We failed them," Gimli rasped in pain.

"I did," Boromir whispered as he kicked at the pile. "Damn my weak heart!"

Peter was still holding Susan, wondering when his own tears would come. "It's okay, Su…" he said, knowing it was a lie. "It's okay…We…we'll get through it…We…."

"Shut up, Peter," she hissed into his chest. "Just…shut up…"

Legolas looked to her, reaching to give a comforting arm but Gimli stopped him. "Let them mourn, elf," he softly said, his eyes carrying pain of his own. "Tis better that way."

Legolas looked to the dwarf, remembering Gimli's reaction in Balin's tomb and nodded as he backed away.

"A hobbit lay here."

Everyone glanced over to where Aragorn knelt on the ground, examining the tracks. "And another…and a human." Peter frowned deeply, opening his mouth to angrily tell Aragorn they didn't need to know exactly how the trio had died. But the Ranger was moving, half-crawling, half-running to look at the tracks, finding pieces of rope on the ground. "Their bonds were cut," he hissed, excitement in his voice.

Susan wiped at her eyes as she began to understand what he was saying. They were following Aragorn as he rose up, his eyes flicking over the tracks of horses and various boots, able somehow to see the ones he wanted. "They ran off here, into…" He stopped as he looked forward. "Into Fangorn Forest."

Peter and Susan stared at the thick black woods and both felt a chill go through them. It reminded Peter of all the scary fairy tales he'd heard in his childhood, the sort that tended to give him bad dreams. The very sight of the outskirts was foreboding to the extreme and Susan half-expected a sign saying "Abandon all hope, ye who enter."

"Fangorn," Gimli whispered. "What madness drew them there?"

"I take it it's not a popular spot," Peter stated more than asked.

"Many are tales of the darkness and danger within Fangorn," the dwarf said.

"You said the same thing about Lothlorien," Susan pointed out.

"No," Legolas said, shaking his head. "Even we have heard sinister tales of Fangorn and do not speak of it often."

"Whatever the dangers, we must enter," Boromir said, stepping toward the forest. "If there's a chance they're lost, they need us." Peter was right behind him and Susan hurried to follow as the forest swallowed them up.

It was dark, much darker than expected but still enough light to see. There was no clear pathway as they made their way over gnarled roots and branches. Peter and Susan could feel the strange air to the place, a thin mist but also a feeling of…darkness and emotion as if the trees themselves were reacting to their presence. They had experience with lifelike nature, of course and were sure this was much the same.

Gimli saw a touch of dark color on a leaf and reached to rub his thumb and forefinger on it. He tasted them with his tongue and quickly spat. "Orc blood."

Boromir's foot came down on something soft and he looked down. "And this may be the orc it came from." Everyone came over to look at the fallen creature whose body was half-flattened, especially its skull. "Did it fall?" Susan asked, wrinkling her nose.

Boromir shook his head as he studied it. "No. No, it almost looks as if it was…stepped on."

Aragorn's attention was drawn to the large holes nearby leading off. "These are strange tracks."

"Few know what creatures lurk here," Boromir said, unsheathing his sword as he glanced about with concern. "Fewer still know their temperament."

"It feels…tight," Peter observed. "Like the air is close."

"This forest is old," Legolas intoned. "Very old." His eyes took on a distant look. "Full of memory…and anger." As if on cue, a rumble went through, causing them all to raise their weapons. "They're speaking to each other."

"Gimli," Aragorn hissed, getting the dwarf's attention. "Lower your axe!" He made a motion and Gimli nodded as he lowered the blade. Peter also lowered his sword, realizing that striking a live tree was not a wise move.

"They have feelings, my friend," Legolas said with a smile. "Long ago, we elves taught the trees how to speak, how to sing."

"What do trees have to speak about," Gimli muttered. "Besides the consistency of squirrel droppings?"

Susan chuckled. "Well, actually, you'd be amazed how many creatures of nature are much better conversationalists than humans." She glanced at Peter. "Remember what that horse, Bree, once said?"

Peter nodded with a smile of his own. "He said we humans were worse than mules when it came to stubbornness."

"And that was before he even met you," Susan laughed.

The other men exchanged looks, all taken aback by the two matter-of-factly discussing talking animals but decided not to press the point. Legolas suddenly became alert, moving to a nearby log as he called out in Elvish. Aragorn was behind him, whispering back in the language.

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas whispered, nodding slightly to the right. Everyone immediately stiffened, gripping their weapons tight, none looking back.

"Do not let him speak," Aragorn hissed. "He will put a spell on us." He slowly unsheathed his sword. "We must be quick."

Peter tightened his own grip on his blade while Susan carefully placed an arrow in her bow and drew it back. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn spun about, the other following suit. They caught sight of a figure stepping onto a raised rock before them before it was bathed in a massive white light. Despite the blinding glow, Legolas and Susan both fired off their arrows but with a sweep of a staff, the figure knocked them aside. Gimli threw out a dagger with Boromir mimicking the move but they too were knocked back. Peter let out a yell as his sword suddenly became red hot in his hands and he was forced to drop it. The others also cried out as they felt the same, swords and bows falling. They all backed up to see the figure in robes outlined by the blinding light, his features hidden.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits and a boy," it said in a strange booming voice.

"Where are they?" Peter demanded.

"They passed this way," the voice continued. "Day before yesterday. They…came across someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" Strangely, the voice seemed to change, becoming softer, more friendly and…familiar.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked.

The figure seemed to smile.

"Show yourself, Saruman!" Boromir demanded. "Or is the mighty wizard too afraid to show his true face to us?"

The figure stepped forward, the white glow vanishing as he moved the staff in his hands. He was dressed completely in white robes and his beard was the same color. But the face was not the stern, dark features of Saruman but rather the kind and wise lines of…

"Impossible," Susan breathed. Peter was beyond words completely, much like the rest of the group.

"How…" Boromir stammered.

"It cannot be," a wondrous Aragorn gasped.

Legolas fell to his knees, his head bowed, Gimli also making a stiff bow of his own. "Forgive me," the elf said. "I mistook you for Saruman."

"I am Saruman," the white figure said with a trace of humor to his voice. "Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "You fell."

The smile faded as the man's eyes took on a look of remembrance of something best forgotten. "Through fire. And water. From the lowest pit to the highest peak, I fought the Balrog and he fought me. To the height of Durin's Tower in the blizzards of the mountains, we fought until finally I was able to throw my enemy down. Darkness took me and I strayed out of space and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life-age of the earth." He straightened. "But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I have been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf," Aragorn said with wonder.

"Gandalf?" The man frowned as if that name was strange. "Yes…that's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey."

Susan wiped at her eyes but was coming around to this being real. She supposed it wasn't too much of a shock, having already seen Aslan's resurrection but it was still something to see Gandalf back. More than that, he seemed stronger now, more powerful, the white of his cloak not just a different outfit but showing his new ability as well.

His eyes took on a twinkle. "I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide." He looked behind him as he stepped off the rock. "And I do not come alone."

There was the sound of scampering on rock and then a familiar young face poked his head up with a smile. "Edmund!" Peter and Susan both cried out, rushing to embrace their brother with warmth. As soon as the hug ended, Susan punched him in the arm. "Don't you ever scare us like that again!" she scolded.

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Edmund pointed out. "Believe me, school will seem like a picnic after this." Peter smiled and tousled his hair.

"What about Merry and Pippin?" Boromir urgently asked.

"They are safe," Gandalf answered. "They are with Treebeard and the Ents."

"The Ents?" Aragorn started. "There are still Ents in the world?"

"What are Ents?" Peter asked Edmund.

"This world's version of talking trees," his brother explained. "They're with Treebeard now, decent sort really."

"I thought them only legend, if they ever truly existed," Boromir said.

"They do exist," Gandalf told him. "And Treebeard will be a good guide and guardian over them."

"So much for those stories of Fangorn being dangerous," Peter remarked with a smile.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Dangerous? Oh, it is dangerous. So am I. But simply being dangerous does not make one an automatic threat to all. Believe me when I tell you, though, when the Ents are roused, their anger can shake the land for all to feel. And may very well do so."

Gandalf's eyes fell on Boromir and he raised an eyebrow as if surprised by his presence. "The patterns weave much differently than I had expected," he murmured to himself. "But perhaps your thread will be a vital one."

He glanced at the children and smiled. "Ah, I see you remain with us, my good King and Queen of Narnia. I welcome your aid, it may be most beneficial in the trials ahead."

Edmund looked about. "Hang about, where's Lucy?"

Peter sighed. "With Frodo and Sam. Headed toward Mordor."

Edmund's eyes opened wide. "What?! You let her go there?"

"Since when have we ever _let_ Lucy do anything?" Susan half-complained, half-stated.

"Point," Edmund noted.

"There is a plan in all things, my young friend," Gandalf said. "And your sister has her role to play just as you all have yours."

"So we just leave Merry and Pippin here then?" Susan asked.

Gandalf nodded as he pulled a grey Elven cloak over his white robes and began to walk off. "One stage of your journey is over, another begins. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras?" Gimli grumbled. "That is no short distance."

"We hear of trouble in Rohan," Boromir stated. "It goes ill with the king."

"Yes," Gandalf mused. "And it will not be easily cured."

"Then we have traveled all this way for nothing?" Gimli exclaimed. "Are we to leave these poor Hobbits alone in this horrid, dark, dank…"

"Gimli," Edmund said with a warning tone.

"Miserable, stink-filled, tree-infested…"

A massive groan reverberated across the forest.

"I mean charming!" Gimli quickly spoke up with cheer. "Quite charming forest!"

Gandalf smiled. "It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of those two will be like the falling of small stones that starts and avalanche in the mountains."

"In one thing you have not changed, old friend," Aragorn chuckled. "You still speak in riddles."

"Riddles?" Gandalf seemed amused. "Nay, I was merely talking to myself. It's a habit of the old." He looked about. "A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up…and find they are strong."

He waved his white staff at Gimli. "So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf! Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

Gimli growled under his breath as Gandalf turned to walk back the way the group had first entered. "This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one." Boromir had to laugh at that.

Soon, they were back in the open daylight, their horses still waiting for them. "We shall have to make room for you and Edmund on our steeds," Aragorn stated.

"No need." Gandalf stepped forward and let a long, low whistle. There was silence and then the clatter of hoof beats got their attention. As they watched, a magnificent white steed came over the hillside, its mane shimmering in the daylight as it rode forward.

"Oh, my," Susan whispered. Even in Narnia, a horse of such incredible beauty and grace was rare. Her companions seemed just as awed by it. "That is one of the Meras," Legolas softly said. "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

The horse came to a stop before Gandalf, the wizard patting its neck. "This is Shadowfax. The lord of all horses and my friend through many dangers."

Boromir smiled wide. "The Enemy may have nine Black Riders but we have one mightier than they! The White Rider!"

"Gandalf the White I am now," the wizard confirmed as he hoisted himself onto Shadowfax. "And woe to the forces of Sauron that is so! But to Edoras, now and the Golden Hall!"

They mounted, Edmund joining Gandalf as he led them on. Gimli let out a grumble. "I have to ride with the elf again?"

Susan rolled her eyes as she moved to Legolas' horse. "Fine, fine, I'll ride with him."

"You sure?" Peter asked as he got on the horse holding Aragorn.

"You'd prefer hearing them argue all the way to this Edoras place?" Susan asked. Everyone shook their heads at that with Gimli and Legolas both glowering. Legolas did aid Susan in getting up as she carefully held her arms around his waist. "Best to hang on, my lady," he said in a respectful tone.

"Actually, I was thinking I would take the reins instead."

"That is not seemly, my lady."

"It seems fine to me," Susan snapped.

"Enough!" Gandalf said, kicking his heels to set Shadowfax afoot, the other horses quickly following. Soon, they were galloping away from the grim forest and across the plains. They left with new energy, imbued by the return of the wizard and the hope he brought but well aware of the dark journey facing them still.

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**One of my favorite parts of the entire trilogy, loved working on it. Next chapter brings the focus to Lucy, Frodo, Sam and a certain guide…**


	9. An Unlikely Guide

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**In case I haven't before, thanks to everyone for all the great comments and favorite alerts. It really does matter that so many enjoy this and I'll try to keep it up to those standards. Also happy that, coincidentally, INMH has begun to update her own excellent "The Hobbit, the Ring and the Fellowship" which deserves a read in case you haven't already. **

**An Unlikely Guide**

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By this point, one probably wonders what has occurred with Lucy, Frodo and Sam. The truth was, much of their journey was slow going as they made their way to the outskirts of the dark land known as Mordor. A land as dark as its name. Even long after Sauron's fall, long after his name had passed to legend, those with wisdom gave Mordor a wide distance. It wasn't just the way the land was dark to look at. It was the fact that the pure, sheer evil of the place could be felt for miles away.

Lucy had never characterized herself as a girl easy to frighten. Oh, she had been scared before, it was only natural. But like any child who had undergone the bombings on London, she had grown up fast and become used to shocks and danger. Years as a queen of a mystical land had also burned away much of her fear. It was always an interesting dichotomy for Lucy, a woman in the body of a girl, even more serious with her than her brothers and sister.

But despite all that, Lucy could not help but feel chilled as she gazed out at the sight of Mordor in the distance. The sun appeared to vanish, the thick clouds like a ceiling of black ash over the horizon. The area appeared totally red, added onto by smoke from a mountain that seemed more like a volcano. In the far distance, Lucy saw a tower rising up with a strange red glow emitting from the top, just over the clouds. It was craggy, lifeless, not a sign of vegetation or life but still exuded pure, unadulterated darkness that no sane person would want to be around.

"Mordor," Sam intoned from beside her and Lucy nearly jumped. "The hobbit was staring off into the distance as well. "The one place on Middle Earth we don't want to be near. The one place we need to get to." He shuffled the heavy pack on his back as he looked behind him. "You okay, Mister Frodo?"

"I'm fine," Frodo said as he wound the long rope back into a loop. The area they were in, Emyn Muil, was nothing but craggy thick rocks with lots of cliffs and no pathways. Mist hung about, making it difficult to breathe in places as the trio had needed the rope given to them by Galadriel to make their way about. "Here's that box you dropped."

Sam smiled as he took the small box and opened it. "Good. Would have been in a right spot if we'd lost this!"

"What is it?" Lucy asked with interest.

"Oh," Sam blushed. "Just some…um….seasoning."

Frodo and Lucy looked at each other, then back at him. "It's special seasoning," Sam went on. "Best in the Shire. Thought it might come in handy for…roast chicken."

"Chicken?" Lucy couldn't help but smile. "You expect to find a chicken on the outskirts of Mordor?"

Frodo shook his head. "Sam, dear, dear, Sam." His smile faded as he grasped at his chest, wincing. His face seemed to go pale, his eyes unfocused for a moment before he recovered. It wasn't the first time this had happened since they had come to this place and Lucy was growing quite concerned.

"It's the Ring, isn't it?" Sam asked softly.

Frodo nodded. "It feels like it's getting…heavier." He composed himself. "I'll be all right." Lucy looked at him doubtfully and he made an attempt at a smile. "I will. How's our food?"

Sam rummaged through his pack. "Let's see…Lembas bread…lembas bread…oh and look!" He held up a loaf. "More lembas bread!" He handed them a few pieces as he chewed on his own. "I don't usually hold for foreign food but this Elvish stuff isn't bad."

"And we don't have to eat too much as it's so filling," Lucy added. "The prefect traveling food!"

Frodo let out another chuckle. "I am glad you two came. It's hard to dampen your spirits."

Sam frowned as he looked into the distance. "Those rain clouds might."

Lucy followed his gaze to the dark clouds rolling overhead and sighed. "Mr. Tumnus told me I should always carry an umbrella, no matter what," she remarked. "I knew I should have listened to him more."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Fortunately, there were enough rock croppings in the area to give them some shelter from the pouring rain that night, although all three were still wet as they walked the next day. The area seemed no different to Lucy, just yards and yard of endless rocks and nothing else, the sight of Mordor in the distance still looming.

Lucy hissed as she stumbled on one rock, hopping on one foot. She wondered yet again exactly how the two hobbits were able to get along so well on bare feet. She'd yet to hear them complain about any cuts or scrapes or even how aching their feet must be from walking. She wondered if that fur on top was an extra protection of sorts but felt it rather rude to ask such a question.

"This looks familiar," Sam muttered as he moved around a rock.

"How can you tell?" Lucy asked. "It's just the same rocks."

"I know but it still feels familiar."

Frodo paused as he saw a small indention in the ground by a cliff as if someone had fallen. "Because we've been here before!" he moaned. "We're going in circles!"

Sam sighed. "Let's face it, Mister Frodo. We're lost." He sniffed the air. "And there's still that miserable stench, like a bog." He shook his head. "I don't think Gandalf meant for us to come this way."

"He didn't mean for a lot of things to happen," Frodo sadly said. "But they did."

"I've been wondering," Lucy piped in, hoping to change the subject quickly before the hobbits became downcast. "Why do you keep calling him 'Mister Frodo?' I mean, if you're such good friends, why be so formal?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, just feels…I don't know. I mean, I worked for Mister Bilbo and all and I moved on to working with Frodo. I guess my mother just bore down on always being polite to those you know."

"It's fine with me," Frodo said, making a small smile as he looked about. "It's just Sam's way, Lucy. Best not to worry about it."

Lucy thought about how she'd always addressed Mr. Tumnus with his title even after their long years of friendship and agreed Frodo had a point. She saw him frowning, his eyes casting about and moved in. "What is it?"

He looked to her and Sam, worry in his eyes as his voice dropped. "We're not alone."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Even if she wasn't being directed to merely act asleep, Lucy would have been awake. The night was cold, biting cold, a wind cutting through the area and the cloaks afforded little warmth. The moon shone high from above, casting shadows and making the already desolate area look even more frightening. Lucy kept her eyes shut as her hand clenched the dagger under the cloak. Frodo and Sam lay on either side of her, also seemingly asleep but their ears alert to any noise.

Lucy wasn't sure about Frodo's idea to simply wait for whatever it was to come to them. It made more sense to keep going and try to put ahead any distance but Frodo insisted that it was better to confront their pursuer (or pursuers) and get it out of the way. All Lucy could do was hope whoever it was wasn't too heavily armed and strong.

She heard the motion above and resisted the urge to open her eyes. Pebbles scattered as something moved overhead. She could hear a strange hissing sound, like a snake but then growing into a growl as whatever it was climbed down the rock wall the trio lay before.

"The thievessss…..the filfthy, ssssstinking thievessss…" The voice was ice cold, colder than even the White Witch, which was more than enough to freeze Lucy in place. "Where isssss it? Where? They sssssstole it from usssss….The Prescioussss…..MY Preciousssss…." The hissing came closer and closer as the intruder moved to just over their heads. "Cursssse them….We hatesss them!" _We, it said we, there's more than one. _"It'ssss ourssss! We wantssss it! NOW!"

"NOW!" Frodo yelled and the trio immediately leapt up, throwing back cloaks and facing the creature. It was jarred by their sudden move, giving the hobbits a chance to grab it by its arms and yank it down. It failed and screeched and for all the world reminded Lucy of a rabid monkey as it waved all its limbs at them. It knocked them away, landing on all fours, whipping its head around and snarling.

As Frodo fell back, the Ring fell from its chain into the open. Instantly, the creature lunged at Frodo, grabbing at the Ring frantically. Lucy grabbed at it to try and pull it off but it was no use. Sam did his best to help but the being turned and bit him on the shoulder. As Sam yelled in pain, the creature kicked him back and then lunged at Lucy.

The girl screamed and tried to pull her dagger around but it was no use as the wiry limbs wrapped around her throat. She fell back, trying to get it off but the creature kept up its grip snarling and spraying spittle into her face. There was a ring of steel and then a short blade was pointed right at the intruder's throat, finally stopping its movements.

"This is Sting," Frodo hissed in a voice colder than Lucy had heard him use before. "You've seen it before. Haven't you…._Gollum?"_ The creature just hissed as Frodo pushed it against his throat more. "Release her or I slice you."

The figure stared, as if trying to decide. Then, it closed its eyes and let out a long and piercing wail. Lucy felt it let her go and immediately broke away, brushing at herself as if trying to get the foul stench and touch off her. Once she'd gotten her balance back, she was finally able to clearly see the most wretched-looking figure she'd ever laid eyes upon in her life.

It resembled a human being in shape, about the same size as the hobbits. Its skin was pale, almost grayish, as if it had not seen the sun in years. Its head was marked by a pair of surprisingly clear blue eyes, mostly bald with only a few grainy strains of hair behind him. It was naked except for a thin loincloth about its waist and his entire body appeared just one thin layer of flesh away from being a skeleton. The bones and legs were bent, as if it crawled more than walked and as he sat up, his back seemed hunched over as well. He wailed again, showing a row of blackened and rotten teeth.

"This…is Gollum?" Lucy asked softly. While she had heard little of the creature, she hadn't expected such a horrible persona.

"It is," Frodo said, still holding Sting. "Sam, I think now would be a good time to repractice your knots."

Nodding, Sam moved in with the elvish rope in his hand. Gollum tried to pull away but Frodo kept Sting at his throat, silencing him while Sam wrapped the rope around his neck and tied it in a noose. Lucy frowned deeply. "Is that really necessary?"

The two stared at her in surprise. "He just tried to throttle us!" Sam exclaimed.

"I know, I know," Lucy said. "But it just….doesn't seem right."

Frodo sighed. "Maybe not…but it will have to do for now." With Sam's help he tied the other end of the rope around a rock. "You two better get some rest, I'll keep watch."

"Frodo," Sam started.

"My choice, Sam," Frodo said. "We'll need an early start tomorrow."

While he obviously didn't agree, Sam sighed as he lay down. Lucy kept her eyes on Gollum, who just shook, whether with anger or fear, it was uncertain. At least he had seemed to quiet down, a change Lucy hoped would remain.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"It burnssssss! It buuuuuurnssss ussssss!"

Even when she was royalty herself, Lucy had never been fond of the entire "royal We" concept. Hearing it used constantly by the creature was frankly annoying. Throw in his nonstop hissing and high-pitched wailing, not to mention how he kept stopping in place among the rocks and it was too much for even her mild temper to take.

"If you'll stop fighting, it won't hurt as much!" she snapped at him. The four were making their way past more rocks as the morning sun began its rise. Sam was pulling the rope attacked to Gollum, often having to drag the creature several steps.

"It freeezeeesss!" Gollum cried out, clutching at it. "Nasty elvesssessss twissssted it! Take it off ussssssss!" He howled more, causing Lucy to put her hands to her ears.

Sam snarled as he threw the rope down. "It's no use! Every orc in Mordor is bound to hear this racket! We should just tie him up and leave him!"

"No!" Lucy cried out. "He'll starve!"

"It's no more than he deserves!" Sam snapped at her. "He tried to throttle us in our sleep!" He shook his head. "Bilbo should have slit his throat years ago, saved us all some bother! We wouldn't be in this mess with the Ring if it weren't for him!"

"I thought the same thing," Frodo softly said, gazing at the figure cowering on the ground, covering its head as if the sun hurt it. "I said the same to Gandalf. He told me it was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand." He stepped forward, his eyes and voice going soft at the sight of pathetic-looking figure before him. "And now that I see him…I do pity him."

Gollum seemed to brighten a bit at those words. His wide eyes glimmered as he crouched forward and nodded. "Yesss…yessss…we be nice to them….if they be nice to ussssss…." He offered the rope up to Frodo. "Take it off usssss….we will do whatever you asksssss of usssss….." He proffered his arms wide in a show of submission.

"Frodo," Lucy warned. "You told me he used to have the Ring. It's what he wants." As if to prove her right, Gollum's eyes fell on the chain around Frodo's neck and lit with greed.

"She's right," Frodo told the creature sternly. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"We promisssse! We promissssse not to ssssteal the precioussss….We swearssss on…on…." His eyes widened as he pointed at Frodo. "On the Preciousssss! We swearsssss we won't ssssssteal it….or hurtsssss any of you…." He bowed down so low, his forehead touched the ground by Frodo's feet. "We swearssss on the Precioussss…"

"I don't believe you!" Sam snarled, launching a kick at Gollum. The creature leapt back with great agility, scurrying around a rock and snarling back at them. Lucy glared at Sam. While she agreed with his feelings on Gollum, she thought he could be above brutality.

Frodo moved forward, taking the rope from Sam and coming toward Gollum. The creature hissed and drew back but relaxed as Frodo knelt before him. "You know the way to Mordor?"

"Yesssss…." Gollum said with a slow nod.

"You can take us there?"

Lucy bit her lip as she moved to whisper to him. "Frodo, I'm usually someone who always looks for the best in people. But this…" She waved at Gollum for a few seconds, trying to think of the right word. "Man…is obviously a few cards shy of a full deck. Are you sure we can trust him?"

"We have little choice," Frodo whispered back. "The sad fact is, he's the only one who knows the way to the Black Gate."

"To the Gate!" Gollum said, leaping up. "Yes, Master! Yes, Gollum will lead Master to the Gate!" Frodo leaned in to undo the noose and Gollum jumped about. "Follow me! Follow, follow!" He began to move, half crawling and half jumping about the rocks. "Hurry! Thisss way!" He lit up with a twisted smile. "To the Gate we go!"

Frodo began to follow while Sam gazed at Lucy. "This is a very, very bad idea," he intoned.

She shuffled the cloak around herself as she sighed. "I know. But Frodo's right, we really don't have many choices before us right now. We just keep an eye on him all the time, don't leave him alone and hopefully it'll work out."

"Hopefully," Sam muttered. "But if he slits my throat in my sleep, I'm never talking to Frodo again."

Despite the fact he said it seriously, Lucy couldn't help but giggle at his resolute face as the trio followed their strange new guide through the rock and toward the shadows.


	10. A Conversational Road

Chronicles of the Fellowship

**Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**A Conversational Road**

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The wide fields of Rohan meant that the night wind carried a bit more chill. That was especially true on one of the large ridges facing the horizon where the group of travelers had made camp. Given their exhaustion at the long days of chase and little sleep, it was no wonder Peter, Susan, Gimli and Legolas nodded off quickly. Aragorn appeared to have less need of sleep, the man's reserves of energy quite amazing. Meanwhile, Boromir appeared too troubled to properly sleep as well.

Edmund had managed to get quite a bit of rest the night before in Fangorn while he and Gandalf waited for the others. As such, he was awake, keeping an eye around in case more Uruks were about or those Dunlanders Boromir had mentioned. He saw Gandalf standing at the edge of the ridge, staring outward at the horizon. Far in the distance, Edmund could see red in the sky as if from a huge fire. He carefully walked forward to stare out as Gandalf spoke, his eyes glued to the horizon.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dûr, his Eye watches ceaselessly."

"The Eye," Edmund murmured. "They'd mentioned that before. I…well, I thought they were speaking metaphorically."

Gandalf shook his head. "I wish it were so. No. Were you to gaze upon the tower, you would see the massive ball of flame between its spires and the Eye of Sauron, lidless and gazing both in his home and afar. He is growing stronger, ever stronger with every day." He gave Edmund a reassuring look. "But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Númenor still lives."

"Aragorn?" Edmund softly asked.

"Yes. He fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become."

With a start, Edmund realized that Aragorn was standing next to him. It amazed him how quiet the man could be, able to come and go without making any sound. He was silent still as Gandalf glanced at him. "Sauron shall strike hard and fast at the world of men. There is a union now between the Two Towers of Isengard and Barad-dur. He will use his puppet, Saruman, to destroy Rohan." He sighed solemnly. "War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved," he explained with a shake of his head. "It's an old device of Saruman's."

"If you don't mind my asking," Edmund spoke up. "No offense but exactly how did this man get so powerful and toward the dark arts without any of you noticing?"

Gandalf's smile remained, if a bit thinner. "Contrary to what some believe, we wizards are not omnipotent, my young friend. Many of us keep to ourselves, staying in our own studies and ways. We are an order but we don't exactly have monthly meetings." The smile faded. "He was a good man, once, long ago. A friend. He was the wisest our order had known, we all looked to him for counsel. That one so wise and powerful as he could be corrupted was…impossible to foresee."

Edmund looked to the horizon. "He's obviously been planning this for a while."

Gandalf nodded. "His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning we have one advantage.

"This, I'd love to hear," Edmund said.

"The Ring remains hidden," Gandalf explained. "And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams."

Edmund frowned. "It hasn't? I would have thought it'd be the most obvious course of action for us."

"You do not understand the way Sauron's mind works, my young king," Gandalf said with a trace of whimsy. "He has held the Ring, he created its power. He knows how it pulls at a person, at their mind, fuels their desire for power. To his mind, it simply does not make sense that anyone would not desire that power for themselves. He believes we will use the Ring, that we have no choice. That we want to destroy it has simply never occurred to him."

Edmund raised his eyebrows. "What is about evil that makes them assume other people are like them?"

"A question whose answer is beyond us, Edmund," Gandalf said. "But as I said, it gives us an advantage. He believes we are keeping the Ring to ourselves and amassing a force to strike him. He does not know the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest."

Aragorn appeared troubled at that so Gandalf spoke. "Do not regret your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."

"He's not alone," Aragorn replied. "Sam went with him."

"And Lucy," Edmund added.

"Did they?" Gandalf smiled. "Good. Very good."

Edmund glanced back at the camp to see Boromir coming toward them. The man's expression was dark, more appropriate for one headed for the gallows. Gandalf saw him coming and nodded to him. "There is something on your mind, old friend?" Gandalf asked.

Boromir hesitated before nodding. "Yes." He glanced at Aragon and then down. "I…I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I…was prepared to kill him for it."

Edmund stared wide-eyed at him. Instead of anger or even surprise, however, Gandalf simply nodded. "I had feared that would occur. The pull of the Ring is strong. Even I felt it and had to beg Frodo not to give it to me."

Boromir shook his head. "I knew the tales. I knew the dangers but…" He held up his hand and clutched his fist. "In that moment…I was willing to do anything…to kill anyone…to let the world burn…if I could hold it for just one moment."

"That is its true power," Gandalf softly said. "It makes you think you can control it instead of it controlling you. That is how it seduces."

"I failed them," Boromir sighed. "If I had just been stronger."

"Don't blame yourself," Edmund said. "I know how it feels."

"You can't," Boromir snapped at him.

Edmund set his jaw as he stepped up to the other man. "Remember that witch I told you about? The one who ruled Narnia before we came? Well, I didn't just follow after her. I told her about a friend who had helped Lucy and she captured and tortured him. She held him prisoner and then she turned him into stone."

That made even Gandalf stare as Edmund went on. "She played on my feelings, she almost tricked me into betraying my brother and sisters to her. If I had…" He shuddered. "I almost got them killed. I let my own pride and ego run over my sense and it could have ended in disaster, not just for me but for all of Narnia."

He swallowed as he looked Boromir in the eye. "And after all that…they forgave me. They accepted me back, they understood. Aslan….he forgave me as well, even when what I did led to him dying. I didn't think I earned it…but they all made me understand I did." He put a hand on Boromir's shoulder. "What you did was wrong…but it wasn't truly you, it was that damn Ring. I understand that. Frodo would too."

"But that is only part of the reason," Boromir said. He paused, looking out at the horizon. "You did not know this but…I had another reason for coming to the council at Rivendell."

The two men were interested as Boromir continued. "My father had learned the Ring had been found. He told me that he suspected that was what the Council was about. He sent me out to find a way to bring the Ring back to Gondor, to use against the Enemy."

Gandalf pursed his lips in obvious disapproval as Aragorn shook his head. "Yes," Boromir agreed. "A foolish notion, I know that now. But my father…" He took a deep breath and then looked to Aragon. "His father died young so my father has ruled as Steward for a long time, before I was born. It is difficult to defend against Mordor, especially in the last several years when they have grown in strength." He paused before continuing. "I fear it has gotten to my father, has worn at his mind and strength. He is desperate for what he sees as any means to defend our people."

"And in doing so," Gandalf grimly stated. "He will lead them to ruin."

Boromir slowly nodded and looked to Aragorn again. "There is something else. There are many in Gondor who have long accepted that the true King will never return. My father…although I cannot say for sure, I believe he is one of them. As I said, he has ruled for a long time and I fear he may not be as willing to give up that rule, even if it is to the true heir."

"I do not wish to be King," Aragorn rumbled. "Let him keep his throne."

Gandalf frowned deeply. "You cannot escape your destiny, Aragorn. Men need to have their king return, to lead them. It, more than even the destruction of the Ring, is what will ultimately defeat Sauron."

"He's right," Edmund said. "I know a bit about destiny and prophecy, Aragorn and as annoying as it is, you just can't escape your fate."

"I have long held that fate is what one makes of it," Aragorn argued.

"At times, for some, it is," Gandalf said. "But this is more than just your own feelings, my friend."

Aragorn glanced at Boromir. "I recall what you told me at Rivendell. That Gondor needs no King."

Boromir blanched slightly. "Yes. Yes, I said it. But I was wrong. I know that now." He met Aragorn's gaze, his own suddenly stronger. "You resisted the Ring. If nothing else says volumes about your spirit and character, that would suffice. You can lead the men of this world. They will follow you as I will."

He held his fist to his heart and drew himself up. "Wherever you go, I will follow you. My brother. My captain. My King."

Aragorn felt more respect for Boromir than he ever had before. He saw the truth in the man's eyes, the realization he had fallen hard but was pulling himself back up. He smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

Gandalf smiled himself as he gazed out at the sky. "Tomorrow we reach the heart of Rohan," he intoned. "And from there…fate will take us at is it will."

Boromir smiled to them before he headed back to his blanket. Aragorn seemed troubled for a moment even as he went back. Gandalf and Edmund were back to staring outward once more. "He bids you welcome, the Great Lion," the wizard suddenly said.

Edmund started and stared at him. "What?"

"One sees much beyond the veil of death," Gandalf went on. "He says to keep on your path and your purpose shall be fulfilled." He smiled at Edmund's bewildered look. "You will understand in time."

Edmund swallowed. "You just…you're not going to tell me more?"

"Be clear and obvious?" Gandalf smirked. "I do have a reputation to uphold."

Back at the blankets, Susan had stirred at the talk, looking to Aragorn. The man was gazing at a pendant in his hands, a gorgeous jewel hanging from his neck. "Lovely," Susan murmured.

"So is the lady who gave it to him." Susan couldn't help but yelp a bit at Legolas' sudden words. The Elf was lying back, eyes shut but obviously quite awake, not seeing how distressed he'd made the girl. Or, perhaps, he didn't really care.

"What?" Susan barked as soon as her heart started again.

"It was a gift from Arwen, a lady of Rivendell," Legolas spoke in a low tone. "Daughter of the King Elrond. The woman Aragorn has given his heart for."

Susan blinked. "An elf? He's in love with an elf?"

One of those eyes opened a crack and the tiniest hint of a smile played on those handsome features. "That surprises you."

"Well, I mean…" Susan shrugged. She had seen odd pairings of species in Narnia but they were rare. "I had thought you elves were leaving this land."

"We are," Legolas said with a sad voice. "And thus they shall be separated or else she shall stay. She shall become mortal but will still outlive him and thus spend the rest of her days with a sad heart." The eye closed. "But perhaps they feel it is worth it."

Susan thought about it and nodded. "Not that long ago, the King of England gave up his throne to be with an American. It is amazing what men can do for love."

Legolas shuffled in his spot. "I have seen much over the centuries but it is still hard to decipher emotions."

Susan frowned. "How old are you?"

"Two thousand, nine hundred and sixty one."

Susan's jaw dropped before she could stop it. Legolas seemed to think it wasn't worth detailing further and she decided to take advantage to roll back and try to get some sleep once more. She did her best to relax even as she knew the dark of night hinted at the shadows of the land.

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**A short chapter, I know, but wanted to save Edoras for itself and had a few character moments to get to first. **


	11. The Golden Hall

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**The Golden Hall**

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The morning sun was shining brightly as the riders made their way across the plains to the tallest sight in miles. The large hill rose from the plains, not anywhere near a mountain but in the flat lands was still very high. At its crest, buildings and farms surrounded it, littering about. The very top, right by the edge of the cliff, held a massive building with golden-brown woodwork and a wide roof.

"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf announced. "There dwells Théoden son of Thengel and King of the Mark of Rohan. And whose mind is over thrown." The others turned to the Wizards with questioning looks. "Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

"And no one has noticed this?" Susan demanded.

"Absolute rulers, Su,"Peter pointed out. "How many times did we have our subjects talking to us about things we didn't want to hear?" She had to acknowledge his remarks as they rode toward the hill. As they approached, they saw a woman standing at the stone platform the Hall sat upon. She appeared in her twenties, attractive with long dark blond hair blowing around her in the wind, clad in a simple white robe. She gazed at them with detachment before heading back inside.

They all stopped before the wide wooden fence that surrounded the outskirts of the hill. Guards in similar armor to the riders they had met before gazed at them with curiosity and suspicion. "Stay, strangers here unknown!" shouted a guard from above the closed gate doors. "None are welcomed here in days of war but our own folk, and those that come from Mundburg in the Land of Gondor. Who are you that come heedless over the plains thus strangely clad, riding horses like to our own horses? Long have we kept guard here, and we have watched you from afar. What brings you here? And speak quickly!"

"Not much for tact in these parts," Edmund noted under his breath.

"We come to met with you master, King Theoden," Gandalf shouted up in reply. "Will you not open the gates?"

"I would but two nights ago Wormtongue came to us and said that by the will of Theoden no stranger should pass these gates."

Gandalf scowled at the name. "Wormtongue? Say no more! My errand is not to Wormtongue, but to the Lord of Mark himself. I am in haste. Will you not go or send to say that we have arrived?"

The guard paused before nodding. "Yes I will go. But what name shall I report?"

"I am Gandalf. Let that be all you tell him for the moment!"

"I will go as you bid and learn my master's will," said the guard. "Wait here a little while, and I will bring you such answer as seems good to him. Yet do not hope too much!" And with that he vanished to meet with the King.

"Wormtongue?"Edmund sniffed. "I dislike the man already."

Susan shuffled her bow on her back. "I have to admit, I'm rather interested in finally meeting royalty of this world." She became aware of Aragorn's look. "You know what I mean," she told him and he simply nodded in return.

"Just let Gandalf take the lead here," Peter told her. "We are dealing with magic which makes him the expert."

Both Susan and Edmund looked at him with surprise which caused Peter to roll his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm showing patience and reason, try not to faint."

The doors before them opened and the guard who had addressed them before was standing there. "You may enter. But be aware you are watched at all times by our archers." He stepped aside to let the horses through.

The group found themselves riding slowly through the main village. Brown-thatched houses were strewn about with a few shops, a blacksmith and small pens for animals. The people looked up at them with curiosity but not much energy. Indeed, the entire area seemed consumed by an overwhelming sadness and lack of hope.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli gruffly noted.

"The land is full of despair," Gandalf agreed. "It is our task to lift it."

"No pressure there," Edmund muttered.

The group stopped before a set of stone steps leading up to the Hall and dismounted. They headed up the stairs leading to the hall, the guards on alert. One man stepped out of the main doors to the hall, a gruff veteran soldier with thick brown hair and beard. "I bid you welcome to the Hall of Théoden King," he remarked. "I am Hama. I must ask you to give up your weapons."

"Here we go," Peter sighed.

"I am not prone to entering a strange place unarmed," Legolas said with a glare.

"For once, I'm with the elf," Gimli growled, tightening his grip on his axe.

Susan sighed and rubbed at her face. "Remind me never to have you two over for a feast."

"It is on orders of…Grima Wormtongue." By the look on his face, Hama wasn't happy and one guard seemed ready to spit at the name but held himself.

"Come now, we are friends here," Gandalf said as he removed a sword from his robe to hand it over to a waiting guard. After a pause, the others followed suit, Gimli and Legolas the most reluctant. Peter handed his sword over carefully, giving Hama a fixed glare. "This was a gift from a great friend. I would appreciate you keeping it safe."

Hama was struck by both the tone and look in the young man's eyes, so much older than his appearance. He nodded as he handed the blade to another guard. Susan's bow and Edmund's sword followed. Hama glanced at Gandalf and what he held. "Your staff?"

"Oh, sir," Susan said with an amazing show of innocence. "Surely you would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Hama blanched and nodded, backing up.

Edmund had to bite his lip to keep from laughing while Peter gave his sister a mock glare. "Why didn't you just bat your eyes at him while you were at it?"

"Oh, shut up," she hissed as they entered the Hall.

It took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the wide open throne area, lit by a few torches, the windows half-shut. Seated at the far end on a raised throne was a frankly quite decrepit figure. His skin was withered and wrinkled and his eyes were glassy and drained of color, carrying no life to them at all. The man may have been alive but was doing an excellent impression of a corpse. The robes that he wore which were once fine garment were now worn and ratty. On his head, he was a crown of dulled gold that seemed horribly out of place on the man's head, which was covered with stringy and greasy white hair.

"That's Théoden?" Peter whispered, taken aback at the man's appearance.

Boromir appeared even more thrown. "The last we heard, he was still hale and hearty, not like…this."

"Saruaman's witchcraft," Aragorn muttered. "The true king is much younger."

"That's a relief," Edmund noted. "Because this one doesn't look a day over dead."

Seated besides the throne was another man, if he could be called that. This one was much more lively looking, though certainly not much more pleasing to the eye. His skin was ghostly pale that seem extenuated by his greasy mop of black hair. He was dressed in fur-lined black robes and leaned heavy on the arm of the king, whispering to him as the group came forward. This, the children instantly realized, had to be Grima Wormtongue and by the looks of him, he deserved the name.

Peter's attention was caught by movement to the side and he glanced over to see a trio of dark-garbed men on the far edge of the room keeping pace with the group, their glares icy. "Aragorn," he whispered.

"I see them," the Ranger answered. He and Boromir were watching another group on the opposite side of the room. Susan glanced behind as the doors were slammed shut with a foreboding boom.

Gandalf appeared not to notice anything amiss as he calmly spoke up. "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King."

"Any less and our heads would be on pikes outside," Edmund whispered to Peter. Susan let out a shushing sound to quiet them quickly.

"Why…" The King's voice cracked as if his throat was made of dry wood. "Should I welcome you…Gandalf…Stormcrow?"

"A just question, my liege,"Grima said as he turned and began to march toward the group with a wicked smirk on his features. "Late is the hour in which this conqueror appears. Lathspell I name him." He came up close to Gandalf and sneered. "Ill news is an ill guest." His smirk grew to a twisted smile that revealed blackened and cracked teeth.

"I knew I was right to hate this guy," Edmund quipped under his breath.

"Silence!" Gandalf snapped as he glared at the man. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He held his staff before Grima's face, the man showing fear as he backed up.

"His staff…" He hissed before looking to the guards. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He made a motion and the darker-clad guards immediately moved in on Gandalf. Just as quickly, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli moved to intercept them. Susan dodged one guard and with a quick thrust of her foot, tripped him to the ground.

Peter punched a man charging at him while Edmund tackled another down. He glanced up to his brother and managed to smile. "Weren't we just doing this in London?"

As the brawl continued, Gandalf made his way to Theoden. "Theoden, son of Thengel, too long have you stayed in shadow." He gave no notice at all to the fighting as Boromir and Aragorn made short work of the larger guards while Peter and Edmund handled another. At the door, a guard reached for his sword but Hama stopped him.

Edmund looked to see Grima try to scurry away. With a snarl, he rushed in and tackled the slimy man to the ground. Grima tried to worm away but Edmund held tight with Gimli adding a foot to the man's chest to help him out. "I'd stay still if I were you,・ he growled.

Before them, Gandalf bowed his head and flexed his hand outward to the king. "I release you."

A low cackle came from Theoden's mouth. Gandalf looked up, surprise on his features, not having expected this. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," the wretched king gasped. His voice seemed stronger as well as carrying a new tone, one that did not appear to be Theoden's own. It took a moment for the children to realize it was Saruaman speaking through the king.

With strength, Gandalf threw back his cloak to reveal his white robes, which seemed to shine and illuminate the entire hall. Theoden rocked back on his throne, gasping in shock. "I am Gandalf the Grey no longer, 'old friend.' I have taken the colors you discarded. I will draw you, Saruman, as I would draw poison from a wound," Gandalf proclaimed as he held out his staff.

Theoden gasped and when he spoke, it was with a voice not his own. "If I go, Theoden dies."

Gandalf thrust the staff forward and sent him back. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him!" Peter didn't quite understand the logic of that but this was obviously something out of his league.

A young woman with blond hair wearing a white dress burst into the room. It took a moment for them to recognize her as the woman they'd seen before on the steps. One look at the situation and she rushed forward but Aragorn quickly caught her and held her back. With one final thrust of the staff, Gandalf let his magic forth and Theoden let out a long howl of pain before slumping on the throne.

The woman broke away from Aragorn and rushed to the king's side. She knelt as he slowly sat up and his face seemed to grow younger and stronger, his hair darker and shorter. Soon, the decrepit figure everyone had seen in the last few months was gone and its place was the true King of Rohan, a proud and regal man in his sixties but glowing with newfound strength.

Theoden turned to the woman, blinking. "I know that face," he whispered. "Eowyn."

The woman tearfully nodded as Gandalf came up. "Welcome back, old friend. Breathe the free air once more."

Theoden looked to him and smiled. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He flexed the fingers of a hand as if unused to the feeling.

Gandalf had a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps your hands might feel stronger if they gripped your old sword."

Hama quickly moved up and offered a large blade. Theoden gripped the handle tentiavely at first. Then he pulled the blade out of its scabbard and held it up. He stared at it before his mood darkened and his eyes swung over to face one figure who cowered on the floor.

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The villagers had become used to unusual sights in the last few months regarding the Golden Hall. But it was still something when Hama and a soldier named Gamling burst out of the Hall, dragging a struggling Wormtongue between them. Reaching the top of the stairs, the two men, with great strength and obvious pleasure, threw Grima down the stone steps. He bounced down the stairs and flopped onto a landing, gasping in pain.

"Nice pitch," Edmund noted.

"Aye," Gimli agreed as the group crowded on the stone platform. "Very good distance."

Theoden marched down the steps, murder in his eye and his sword held strong. "Do not…send me from your side!" Grima managed to gasp out.

"Your leechcraft would have me crawling like a beast!" Theoden snarled as he marched in and lofted his sword. Susan rushed in to catch him. "No, my lord!" she said. "There has been enough blood spilt due to him! Do not add to it!"

Theoden glared at her but backed up and lowered his sword. Susan turned and offered her hand to Grima. He spat on it and rose to his feet to run away, shoving people aside and grabbing onto the nearest saddled horse. With a loud cry, he was off and running toward the open gate.

Aragon stood before the assembled villagers and called out. "Behold, Theoden, your King!" As one, the villagers and soldiers all knelt before their newly revived lord. . Theoden gazed at them all, his heart swelling as he realized how much he still meant to his people. The smile vanished into a frown as a thought struck him. He gazed around before speaking. "Where is Theodred? Where is my son?"

The joy Eowyn had been feeling vanished from her face as she heard his words. "My Lord…Uncle…your son…was killed in battle with orcs…We told you before but…"

Theoden shut his eyes in pain as gloom once more fell upon the village.

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Funerals were never a fun thing for any of the siblings. They had attended a few before for friends of their parents and some far-flung relatives. They had also presided over some during their rule of Narnia and knew words were no comfort to those who had lost. All they could do was stand and watch as Theodred was laid out in full armor, his sword in his hands. An honor guard moved the slab containing him into a tomb set in the hillside, the resting place of his ancestors. Eowyn was the only one who made any noise, singing a mournful chant as the ceremony went on. Theoden simply stood and stared at it all, the look of a father forced to bury his own child, the worst pain imaginable.

Things were rather sour after that as the Fellowship rested. The children had managed to get a room of their own but none were in the mood for sleep, simply lost in their own thoughts. "You think Lucy's okay?" Edmund asked from the bed.

"It's Lucy," Susan said. "She should be."

"I know but…" Edmund sighed. "This is different. This world is so much different, more dangerous."

"There's nothing we can do for her now," Peter said. "We're a long way off from Mordor and the others seem set on helping Theoden. Which, I have to admit, is probably the right move."

"You think so?" Susan asked.

Peter nodded. "You heard what happened with the orcs. Saruaman is building himself up and is ready to strike. Taking on him will weaken Sauron and that can help Lucy, Frodo and Sam."

Edmund mused it over. "Right...Keep Sauron concentrated on us so he doesn't even notice the real threat going under his nose."

Peter smiled. "You always were good with the chess, Ed."

The door opened and Boromir stuck his head in. "You should come to the main Hall," he told them. "A pair of children just arrived, refugees from a village attacked by Dunlanders." The trio immediately rose to follow him down to the hall.

It was more brightly lit now, with torches set about. Theoden was in his throne, now in a stylish brown suit. Gandalf sat on a smaller seat next to him. Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn were at one table, the dwarf eating a plate of meat and sipping a goblet while Aragorn smoked on a pipe. At the other table sat two children, a boy and a girl, both ragged and dirty, eating quickly.

"They came without warning," Eowyn said as she rose to her feet. She was still in her mourning dress with a small ringlet about her braided hair. "They had nowhere to hide. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

Boromir frowned. "You should have more patrols on standby, more safety for the people."

Eowyn fixed him with a glare. "We do not all live in your great walled city, son of the Steward. We must rely on ourselves, man and woman but we are not used to such dangers."

"Where's mama?" the girl whispered, her brother quickly quieting her. Susan moved to them, stroking her hair and giving a comforting smile. "We'll find her, don't worry," she said, trying to make it sound confident. Glancing at the others, she nodded. "Maybe you'd like to see if there's anything else in the kitchen?" The two children nodded and she helped them to their feet and toward the doorway.

"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman will unleash," Gandalf stated. "All the more potent for now he is driven by fear of Sauron. You must fight him head on." He reached to put a hand to Theoden's own. The king frowned, no doubt recalling the "counsel" given to him by Wormtongue.

"We have not the strength of arms to do so," he intoned, pulling his hand back.

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn said between puffs of the pipe.

"Eomer is loyal to you," Boromir agreed. "He will come back and fight for his king."

Theoden stood up and paced the room. "By now, they will be three hundred leagues away! He cannot help." He let out a hard sigh. "I know what it is you ask of me but I cannot put my people in the risk of open war."

"With all respect, sire," Peter said. "It really doesn't matter what you want. Open war is already here. You've got these wildmen attacking, your son was killed by orcs and you were enslaved by Saruman. If that's not a declaration of war, I don't know what is."

"You've got some advantage now," Edmund said. "He won't expect an open attack, you need to take it before he consolidates his forces."

"It is the only path, sire," Boromir emphasized.

Theoden coolly gazed at them all. "When last I looked, Theoden was King of Rohan. Not a Ranger or a man of Gondor...or two boys claiming to be kings of a country no one has heard of."

The brothers stiffened as Gandalf rose up to pace forward. "Then what is the King's decision?"

Theoden paused, looking down in thought. "We are too vulnerable here," he declared. He looked to Hama, who stood nearby. "Spread the word to the village. Tell the people to gather what they can and prepare to leave at dawn. We make for Helm's Deep."

"Helm's Deep?" Peter asked.

"A fortress of stone which has never been conquered," Theoden said as he strode away. "We shall be safe there until we can figure our next move."

The others did not seem comforted as the king left them. "Wonderful, more traveling," Edmund sighed.

"Be hopeful tis an easy journey, lad," Gimli said as he let out a burp. "A caravan of women and children and old men with only a handful of soldiers to protect them? Sounds an easy target to me."

Peter and Edmund stared at him, wondering just what it was about this world that made dwarves so unwittingly pessimistic.

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	12. The Hard Road to the Helm

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**The Hard Road to the Helm**

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The morning son was rising as the village was in turmoil. Men, women and children were racing about with makeshift carts, putting what belongings they could in bags and baskets, bundling for a long trip. Soldiers mulled about giving what aid they could and preparing large carts of supplies. In the middle of it all, Gandalf stalked toward the stables, muttering angrily. "Helm's Deep!"

Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and Peter were following behind him. Susan and Edmund were aiding in the evacuation while Peter wanted to know what the wizard was up to. "They flee when they should stay and fight," Gimli grunted. "Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He's doing what he thinks is best," Peter argued, feeling a need to stand up for another king. "Let's face it, this isn't the best spot to defend against an invasion. It sounds like Helm's Deep is."

"Oh, yes, lovely spot!" Gimli snapped. "A massive fortress set right up against the base of a mountain with no possible spot to retreat to!" He shook his head. "What fools would dig themselves in like that?" The mountain-born dwarf appeared not to notice the stares of disbelief Legolas and Boromir exchanged.

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf intoned as they entered the stables. "Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading these people to safety. What he'll get is a massacre." He paused before Shadowfax, who rested in a stall and turned to them. "Theoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for Rohan. He will need all of you before this is over." He leaned in, his face tight. "The defenses _have_ to hold."

"They will hold," Aragorn intoned, making it sound positive.

"Just where are you going, anyway?" Peter demanded.

"Eomer's forces are still out there," Gandalf answered. "Finding them is critical." He stroked Shadowfax's mane and spoke softly, almost to himself. "The Grey Pilgrim they once called me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked the earth and now I have no time." He mounted the horse, his staff in his hands as he gazed at them all. "Look to my coming at first light of the fifth day. Look to the East." With that, he kicked his heels and Shadowfax flew out of the stall and toward the open gates, bearing its master away.

Peter sighed. "Well, this makes things more difficult."

"Don't lose hope yet, my young friend," Boromir said. "He may seem old at times but Gandalf is a warrior as much as wizard. And he succeeds far more than he fails."

Aragorn nodded in agreement. "Come, we must be off. It is a long road to Helm's Deep and you can be certain Saruman will not let us go unmolested."

"In case I haven't mentioned it before, you can be quite annoyingly pessimistic," Peter said as they walked out.

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The long caravan made its way across the plains of Rohan as the afternoon sun shone brightly. The going was slow, necessary due to the number of people and what they carried. Soldiers paced carefully on their horses to keep up with the group as they walked past wide fields and lakes.

Gimli was on a horse, pacing along with Susan and Eowyn walking before him. "So, you rarely see dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in shape and appearance, they are often confused with dwarf men!"

Eowyn raised her eyebrows as Susan leaned in. "It's the beards," she whispered with a wink.

"So this gives rise to the thought there are no dwarf women and dwarves just spring whole from the ground which is…" Gimli broke off as his horse suddenly reared forward, bouncing him along for a few paces before falling off. "That was deliberate!" he immediately yelled out.

Eowyn laughed at the sight before glancing to Susan. "Why did you let stop him?"

Susan frowned. "What?"

"My uncle," the woman went on. "Why did you stop him from killing Wormtongue? The wretch deserved it."

"Maybe he did," Susan said. "But striking him down like that was not right, no matter his crimes. Your uncle is a noble king, he shouldn't lower himself to that level, whatever the cause."

Eowyn was silent. "I do not know if I agree but I do understand." She smiled at the younger woman. "You do not appear to be the shy type."

Susan laughed at that. "My brothers would agree with you there. I suppose I've always been a strong and independent sort, I just grew into being queen."

Eowyn was silent as they walked on. "It is difficult to imagine, life as a royal at such a young age."

"It wasn't easy but I grew into it," Susan replied. She glanced at Eowyn. "You are royalty, are you not?"

The other woman nodded. "Yes. My father was a great man before his death and my uncle has provided well." She sighed. "Still…I wish to prove my worth, if I can. I fear being locked in a cage, unable to spread my wings until old age claims me."

Susan gave her a small smile. "Don't be so eager for battle, Eowyn. Believe me, it's not as appealing as you might believe." Her face darkened. "Especially in this land."

Eowyn bit her lip. "But you have a chance to fight. I am not allowed that."

"Fate has an opportunity to give us chances we thought impossible," Susan told her. "We can just hope you survive it."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The caravan paused at a hillside overlooking a wide cliff for a rest and lunch. Eowyn made her way through the crowd to bring a steaming bowl to Aragorn who sat with Peter and Edmund. "I made this for you."

"Thank you," he said as he took the bowl, placing a wooden spoon in it to bring a portion into his mouth. He paused, his eyes widening slightly as he swallowed. Edmund and Peter both instantly recognized the look. It was the same reaction both had when their mother had made them try cabbage soup for the first time.

To his credit, Aragorn bravely swallowed and nodded to Eoywn. Her face seemed anxious, as if any critique would be hurtful for her. "It is good," he lied. She smiled as she turned away. As soon as she did, Aragorn quickly moved to pour the bowl on the ground. Eowyn suddenly turned around and Aragorn pulled the bowl back, a stream of the hot liquid hitting his leg. He closed his eyes and tried to hide the pain as the woman failed to notice it.

"My uncle told me a strange thing," she said. "He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. He must be mistaken."

Aragorn nodded slowly. "King Theoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Eoywn looked stunned. "Then you must be at least 60." Aragorn seemed embarrassed as she knelt down to him. "Seventy? You cannot be eighty!"

Aragorn answered softly. "Eighty-seven."

Edmund and Peter nearly choked on their own food at the matter of fact statement. Eowyn rose up, clearly stunned. "You…are one of the Dunedain. A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life." She swallowed. "It was said that your race passed into legend."

"There are few of us left," Aragorn acknowledged. "The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

Eowyn nodded at that. "I…I am sorry. Please, eat, eat." She turned to walk away. Aragorn watched her go before turning to Edmund and Peter, who appeared to be studying him intently. "Yes?"

"Just surprised," Peter said. "But we can understand. We're a bit older than we look as well." He paused, his face sobering. "When we first met…I said some unkind things to you. I let my own stubbornness and prejudice get in the way of thinking and…I wanted to apologize."

Aragorn bowed his head. "Accepted but I took no offense. I do not believe myself a king like you."

"No," Peter said before smiling. "But I do believe you can be a fine one on your own." Aragorn simply smiled back in response.

Eowyn was heading back to her horse, her face troubled when a deep voice spoke. "You're wasting your time." She looked down to see Boromir sharpening his sword as he sat on the grass. "I saw how you looked at Aragorn," he said, gazing up at her. "I could see you were interested in him. His heart belongs to another, my lady. It is her pendant he wears around his neck."

"She is not here though," Eowyn said.

"No," Boromir acknowledged. "But I would hate for you to lose yourself to a man you cannot have. You have already suffered much pain, it is not right to have more."

She fixed him with a hard gaze. "I will decide my own heart, Steward's Son. I will chart my own fate, no matter who tells me otherwise."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Should you ever come to Gondor, send a messenger to announce yourself. I can then arrange a meeting with you and my brother. Something tells me the two of you will get along famously."

Before she could reply, there was a loud shouting from the ridgeway beyond. Gamling came up on his horse, one sleeve of his uniform torn. "Warg riders!" he cried out. "They killed Hama! They're coming this way!"

Instantly, the camp was alert, people leaping to their feet and screaming in terror and panic. Theoden quickly rode on his horse, barking orders to soldiers. "Four to the caravan! The rest with me!"

Peter and Edmund were racing to their horses, Susan behind them. "Su, help Eowyn with the people!" Peter yelled.

"I'm not staying out of this, Peter!" she yelled back at him.

"Su, I need someone experienced with them, that's you, so for once, don't argue and just go!" He and Edmund started to ride off to join the others. Susan stamped her foot in frustration but turned to follow the people quickly running the other direction.

Peter and Edmund rode over the hill, following the other soldiers. They saw Legolas standing atop the hill, firing arrows in the distance before him. With a quick move, the elf swung up onto a horse and onto the saddle as they charged in. Coming over the plains at them were a set of orcs armed with sharp blades. Each was astride a creature that resembled an oversized wolf. Each was the size of a horse, with huge claws and gaping maws of razor-sharp teeth.

Peter set his teeth and urged his horse onward, his sword raised high. Edmund moved to the side, gripping his own sword. As a warg charged toward him, Edmund suddenly threw himself to the side and slashed outward, cutting the orc at its throat. The creature fell off his warg, which raced on. The other wargs were smashing into the horses as battle erupted around them.

Peter's horse was cut at its legs by an orc and he felt himself sailing forward. He managed to twist so he landed on the warg, behind the startled orc. Before it could move, Peter smashed it across the head with the hilt of his sword and then stabbed the warg through its neck.

Edmund had circled around to charge at another warg, slicing out at it. The orc riding blocked the blow and they dueled for a few moments, steel meeting steel. There was a sudden howl as Gimli arrived, swinging his axe into the warg's body. The creature howled out and fell back, pinning the dwarf down to the ground. The dwarf gasped, trying to push the massive beast off him. The orc who had been riding it came over the corpse, its blade held high. Reaching up, Gimli grabbed it by either side of head and gave it a sharp twist. There was a cracking as the orc slumped down, adding its weight to the warg.

Boromir cut an orc down and moved to the odd sight, shaking his head. "Only you, Gimli," he remarked.

"Get me out of here before the elf sees me!" the dwarf hissed out as Boromir moved to push the warg off.

Peter was on his feet, cutting at the legs of a warg charging past. He turned to see another coming at him and threw himself to the side, barely avoiding its gaping jaws. All around him, soldiers were battling the wargs, many victims to the beasts but others managing to get the better of some of their creatures. Legolas' arrows were able to pierce necks and eyes to bring them down. Astride his own horse, Theoden was holding his own quite well, showing a great warrior skill as he cut orcs down.

Peter saw another warg charging at him and held his blade up. The beast leapt forward at him, claws extended. Peter fell back, his sword held aloft as the warg came at him. The point of the blade sunk into its upper body as Peter was slammed to the ground. He pushed the sword up as hard as he could as the warg sunk onto him and then kicked upward to send the body back. He rose up to see the orc rider trying to get to his feet and slashed it across its chest to cut it down.

He turned, seeing the battle coming to an end. The remaining wargs were running off, many without their orcs. Peter looked around to see the field covered with the bodies of soldiers, many bearing horrible biting and cutting marks over their bodies. The survivors wandered about, stabbing orcs and wargs with swords to make sure they were dead, a few nursing injuries. Boromir was holding a hand to his arm, which bled from a gash from a lucky orc strike. Peter felt his heart sink as he saw far more corpses than survivors among the Rohan soldiers.

Edmund came up to him, putting a hand to his brother's shoulder. "You okay?" He took in Peter's solemn expression and sighed. "We did the best we could, Pete. You couldn't save all of them."

"We could have tried harder," Peter said as he walked slowly across the field.

"This isn't Narnia, Peter," his brother went on, following him. "It's not our land, these aren't our subjects. It was an ambush and we managed to keep them from killing any of the civilians, that counts for something."

"I suppose you're right," Peter said as he looked to Legolas. "Where's Aragorn?"

The elf frowned. "I do not know." He glanced about, seeing an orc lying by a rock near the cliffside, suffering from a cut across his chest. The group stormed forward, Gimli joining them, placing an axe to the orc's throat. "Tell me what happened to Aragorn and I shall ease your suffering," he growled.

The orc choked out a laugh. "He…took a little tumble… over the cliff!"

Legolas grabbed the orc's throat. "You lie!"

In answer, the creature opened his palm to show the elven pendant Argorn wore. Seeing the stunned looks on the group, the orc let out another laugh before dying.

Peter leaned over the cliff and looked down into a raging river at least a hundred feet below. He scanned quickly but there was no sign of Aragorn. "River must have taken his body away," he muttered in a flat tone. "Dammit."

Theoden gazed at the ravine himself before looking to them. "I am sorry," he said softly. "Come. We must rejoin the others." He walked back to the field. "Leave the dead behind, we have no time to bury them. We make for Helm's Deep."

Legolas, Gimli, Peter and Edmund looked down at the river with sorrowful expressions. Boromir came to them, still holding his wounded arm. "Gandalf fell further and he survived," he offered.

"He was a wizard," Edmund pointed out. "Aragorn's just an ordinary man."

"I'd argue that," Boromir said. He let out a long sigh. "We'd better be off though. The people of Rohan still need protection."

"But who's going to protect us now?" Edmund muttered.

"Just ourselves, Ed," Peter solemnly told him. "Like always." They made their way toward the horses, a much sadder group than before, feeling the darkness threatening to overwhelm them.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**One of the more annoying tendencies in LOTR crossovers is someone else going over the cliff with Aragorn. He alone surviving was hard enough, two was pushing it so I wanted to avoid that. But he will return as Helm's Deep is coming. **


	13. Marsh and Gate

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Marsh and Gate

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Lucy had thought any change from the seemingly endless valley of rocks would be a relief. Then she saw where Gollum was leading them.

It could have once been a field of grass but it was now a massive bog, more water than ground, only a few patches of solid grass and mud to walk on. A thick stench filled the air, a foul odor that threatened to choke the group. Gollum appeared to not notice it at all, which confirmed Lucy's suspicions about his past lifestyle.

"Found it, I did," Gollum said and Lucy was very grateful to hear him finally refer to himself in the first person. He had also calmed himself down to cease dragging out the 's' in his speech. "Orcs don't use it. Orcs don't know it. They go round for miles and miles." He crawled along the ground and motioned. "Come quickly! Swift and quick as shadows we must be."

Lucy winced as she stepped into a muddy patch but kept on following Frodo and Sam. She hated this area, she truly did. She'd been through snow and summer in Narnia, even desert and sea but a swamp was something even her mild temperament wasn't happy with. Sam was nervous as he glanced about. "I don't like this place. It's too quiet. In fact, I haven't had sight nor sound of a bird for two days."

"No, no birdses to eat, no crunchable birdses," Gollum growled. "We are famished, yessss. Famished we are, precious." He paused as he saw a worm wriggling on the ground and grabbed it, popping it into his mouth with a smack of his lips.

Lucy frowned in disgust and reached into her pocket to pull out a piece of bread. "Here." She handed it to Gollum, who sniffed it and then put a corner into his mouth. He spat it out, choking. "It tries to choke us! We cants eats Hobbit food! We must starve!"

"Well, starve then!" Sam yelled as he took the bread back. "And good riddance!"

"Sam, take it easy," Lucy told him.

Gollum snarled back. "Cruel hobbit! It does not care if we be hungry. Does not care if we should die." He looked to Frodo with a smile. "Not like Master. Master cares. Master knows. Yes, yes, preciousssss…." His eyes fell upon the ring on its chain and narrowed as his voice dropped. "Once it takesss hold of usssss….it never letsssss go…."

Frodo clutched the ring and pulled back from the creature. Wordlessly, they continued their march through the fetid bog, the mist making it hard to see what was before them. Lucy glanced to the side, expecting to see empty water but instead a shape was there. She started and let out a small yelp as she realized it was a pale face lying underneath. "There's something in there!"

"Here too!" Sam yelled from the other side. "Dead faces in the water!"

"All dead," Gollum confirmed. "All rotten. Elveses and mens and orcses. A great battle long ago." He glanced at them. "The Dead Marshes. Yes, yes, that is their name."

"You couldn't have mentioned the name before hand?" Lucy couldn't help saying. "Just as a warning?"

"This way," Gollum said, turning back to walk on. "Don't follow the light."

"What?"

"Careful or hobbits and little girl go down to join the dead ones and light little candles of their own."

Lucy had no idea what that meant but something told her this was one time it was wise to listen to the warped creature. She kept on going, pausing to glance behind her to the others. She saw Frodo leaned over the edge of the patch of ground as if mesmerized by something in it. As Lucy stared in shock, Frodo fell straight forward, landing in the water. "Frodo!" she called out as she raced over, Sam right behind her. Gollum was there first, however, grabbing at Frodo, was now failing about and dragged him to the shore.

Frodo sputtered for breath as the others joined him. "Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Its eyes…" Frodo gasped out. "I saw them open…" He swallowed. "I think…we should rest here for now."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Despite the long day of walking, Lucy found it difficult to sleep. The odor of the swamp was enough to foul up her senses and made it hard to nod off. Sam managed it but she kept finding herself waking up, the slightest sound in the water making her fearful for attack. 

She wasn't alone in her latest awakening. Frodo was sitting up, holding the ring and stroking it in a way that made her more than slightly worried. Her eyes trailed over to see Gollum sitting at the edge of the water, his hand cupped as he stroked the palm in the exact same fashion. Lucy felt a chill as she wondered if the Ring's effect was contagious. The worry grew when the gold band glinted in the moonlight and Lucy felt a rush of desire for it.

It was shaken off as Frodo suddenly moved to Gollum, placing the ring back into his shirt. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Master should be resting," Gollum calmly replied. "Master needs to keep up his strength." He turned away but Fordo moved before him, crouching to look Gollum in the face.

"Who are you?" the hobbit intently asked.

Gollum turned his head away. "Mustn't ask us. Not its business." He let out a strange swallowing sound that matched his name perfectly.

"Gandalf told me you were one of the River Folk," Frodo went on, his face serious.

"Cold be heart and hand and bone," Gollum answered, still looking away. "Cold be travelers far from home."

"He said your life was a sad story."

"They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead…"

"You were not so very different from a hobbit once, were you…Smeagol?"

Gollum froze at the mention of the name. His head slowly came up as he stared at Fordo in wonder. "What did you call me?" he whispered.

"That was your name once, wasn't it?" Frodo pressed. "A long time ago."

"My name…" Gollum blinked. "My…name….S…S….Smeagol…"

Lucy frowned herself as she crawled over. "How do you know that?" she whispered to Frodo.

Before he could reply, a piercing cry cut through the air. It was an inhuman shriek unlike anything Lucy had heard before. It didn't just hurt her ears but seemed to chill her body within. Gollum reacted with a frantic scream as he covered his ears. Sam sat up, awake instantly as he gazed up. "Black Rider!"

"Hide! Hide!" Gollum yelled as he scampered toward some large brambles nearby. Frodo suddenly let out a cry and clutched at his shoulder. "Frodo!" Lucy gasped as she grabbed at him. "What is it?"

"The wound…" he moaned. "It burns…"

"What wound?" Lucy asked as she and Sam dragged him toward the brambles.

"He was stabbed by a Nazgul on our way to Rivendell," Sam explained. "It was a Mordor blade, poisonous. They healed and cleaned it but it still bothers him when a Wraith is near."

They managed to settle down, keeping as still as they could as they looked up. Lucy felt the chill within her grow as she saw what looked like a dragon-shaped creature flying overhead. Its long neck ended in a thick head with a wide maw that let out a screech. Atop it sat a tall figure dressed completely in black robes, its face hidden under a thick hood as it looked about.

"I thought they were dead!" Sam hissed.

"No, you cannot kill them," Gollum said. "Not living. Not dead. No man can fell a Wraith, no." He looked up. "Wraiths on Wings. They are calling for it. They are calling for the preciousssss…"

Lucy's mouth was dry with fear as the Nazgul flew overhead and then banked to fly away. "That was…oh my word…that was so scary…"

Frodo sighed as he felt the pain go away with the Nazgul. "How much further…to the Gate?"

"A day more," Gollum said. "If we hurry."

Frodo nodded. "We wait an hour and then we go. The faster we get there, the better."

To Lucy, that statement was less than soothing.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The bog had been even worse to get through at night than during the day but the quartet weren't willing to stop for anything. Morning was starting to rise as they finally escaped and headed to another series of rocky hills and valleys.

Gollum was leading the way several steps before them as Lucy moved to Frodo's side. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Better," he confirmed, still rubbing his chest. "Once we get through the Gate, we should be good for a while."

They walked on before Lucy spoke. "What did…what did Gandalf tell you about Gollum?"

Frodo was quiet for a few moments. "He was one of the River Folk…sort of cousins to hobbits in a way. Gandalf said he and his cousin found the ring in a riverbed. I guess the evil of it claimed them quickly and Smeagol…killed his cousin for it."

That gave Lucy a jolt. She had known the creature was disturbed of course but he had seemed rather childish, not a cold-blooded killer. But then she remembered how he had tried to kill them when they first met and shivered all over. "We can't trust him," she whispered.

"I know," Frodo whispered back. "But we do need him to get to…"

"The Black Gate!" Gollum hissed as he knelt by a hillside. "Look, look!"

Lucy peeked over the edge and once more felt herself chilled. When they had mentioned a gate, she had expected some high log fencing, some guards, a wide space to sneak around. What she had not imagined was a massive structure roughly the height and width of Buckingham Palace. It appeared made of solid steel, grooved and spiked, placed directly between two columns of mountain rock. From the distance, she could see orcs patrolling the top of it, walking the wide space and keeping an eye out. "We have to get through that?" she whispered.

"To enter Mordor," Frodo soberly confirmed.

Sam's attention was caught by movement coming toward the gate. "Back!" he hissed. The four clung lower to the ground as they watched a pack of men approach the gate. They appeared human but were all clad in dark uniforms, blood red with grey armor and sharp gauntlets, helmets that resembled razor-sharp wide hats with masks covering them, all carrying spears. As they approached, the orcs urged on a pair of huge trolls to push levers and with a massive groan, the gates began to open.

"Now's our chance," Frodo hissed, getting ready to move. Before he could however, Lucy grabbed his arm. "Let go!'

"Are you mad?" Lucy gasped. "Frodo, look at it!" She waved at the wide open plain of black sand before the gate. "There's no possible way to get over there without being noticed and all those troops around makes it suicide! We'll be captured for sure!"

"Yes! Yessss, listen to the girl!" Gollum hissed, his eyes frantic. "They catch you! They catch you!"

"I must go," Frodo said. "You know that. We must take the ring to Mount Doom."

"No!" Gollum shrieked as Lucy quickly shushed him. Sam looked over the edge but thankfully, the sound of the gates opening seemed to drown out the cry. "Don't take it to HIM!" Gollum went on, waving his arms. "He wants the precioussss….Alwaysssss, he'sssss looking for it." He pointed at Fordo's chest. "And the preciousssss isssss wanting to go back to him." His eyes narrowed. "But we mussssn't let him have it."

"Frodo, for once, the little creep is right," Sam said. "I'm all for getting rid of the foul thing but we'd never make it through the gate."

"And if we do, we'll be caught," Lucy added. "And all we'll do is to give Sauron exactly what he wants."

"We have to go in," Frodo insisted.

"But we have to be smarter," Lucy insisted.

"There's another way."

Everyone looked to Gollum, who was nodding, his voice lowered as if imparting a great secret. "Another way. A day way."

"Why haven't you spoken of this before?" Sam demanded.

Gollum gave him a look as if chiding a foolish child for an incorrect answer. "Because Master did not ask."

Sam glared at him before leaning in to Frodo. "He's up to something."

Frodo waved him off as he leaned to Gollum. "Are you saying there's another path into Mordor?"

Gollum nodded eagerly. "Yess….yessss…There's a path…and some stairs…and a tunnel…"

"Mr. Frodo, no," Sam said.

Frodo gave him a look of determination. "He's led us this far, Sam."

"Frodo, I don't like this either," Lucy said. "If this way was here, why would he not mention it before bringing us to such an impossible entrance like the gate?"

"Foolish girl asks foolish questions," Gollum grunted. "Smeagol no fool. Smeagol knows to keep secrets, yes we do."

Lucy was a bit thrown by his now using the different name. She glanced back to see the last of the column of troops entering the gates and they began to shut. "Frodo…it's your decision. We'll follow but…I don't know if we can trust him."

Frodo nodded to Gollum. "Lead the way, Smeagol."

He grinned and scampered off, waving them on. Sam had a sour look on his face as he followed, sure this was going to end badly. Lucy agreed but knew they had too few options at hand. All they could do know was put as much trust as they could in the strange, strange figure who led them on. She glanced at the gate and shivered as she felt a sudden burst of darkness emanating from the land that lay beyond it. The shiver grew with the realization that this was their ultimate destination.

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**Again, thanks for all the comments. Next chapter kicks off the fun of Helm's Deep.**

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	14. Deep Forebodings

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Apologies for the mix-up involving the last chapter, hope everyone liked the real version. **

**Deep Forebodings**

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The refuges had stopped running a half-mile away from the battle scene, hoping that they weren't being followed. Eowyn was encouraging them on, with Susan aiding them in the back, looking over her shoulder every few moments to make sure there was no pursuit. She couldn't help worrying about Peter and Edmund. Oh, she knew they were capable, they'd proven that in Narnia but they also had such short tempers and that was costly in a battle. She sighed and shook her head, wondering what it was that made the two of them so stubborn.

"Helm's Deep!" someone called out and Susan looked up to see their destination. It was a massive fortress that appeared carved out of the large mountain before them. The towers were high with wide battlements and walkways along the long wall. There were three main levels, each one in a half-circle leading into the mountain. The group headed up the long ramp leading to the wooden doors, thrown open to let them inside. Susan found herself in the midst of a large courtyard, hundreds of people already there, looking the same tired condition of the refugees. Soldiers patrolled about and looked to those who needed care.

The two children who had come to Rohan suddenly broke away to race to a woman, who happily embraced them. Susan smiled as she realized they had found their mother and hoped others could have the same joy.

She gratefully accepted a pitcher of water to drink as she leaned on a wall. She saw Eowyn passing by, her face tight. "What's wrong?"

The other woman sighed deeply. "Our stores are not as large as we had hoped. There is enough for a week, perhaps ten days but afterward…"

Susan bit her lip. "Hopefully, we won't be here that long." She looked about. "It seems secure enough."

"No force has ever breached these walls," Eowyn said with pride. "We can hold out here for a time, if we can get more supplies."

Susan rubbed her head. She had to be impressed by Eowyn's confidence but was still worried about the effects of an attack on such a place. She looked at the women and children about, huddling to protect themselves and had flashbacks to the people of London during the Blitz. _We got through that okay. And at least these orcs don't have bombs or planes._

The sound of horses got her attention as she straightened and saw Théoden riding into the courtyard, a wave of soldiers behind him. Quickly looking, Susan let out a sigh of relief as she saw Peter and Edmund among them. Eowyn was already moving to them, her smile fading as she counted the men. "So few," she whispered. "So few have returned."

Théoden let out a tired sigh as he dismounted. "We took heavy losses," he confirmed. "But we must stand strong." He brushed aside her to head to the main throne room.

Susan frowned as she looked around. "Where's Aragorn?" Eowyn was just as concerned as Gimli came up to them, his face somber.

"My ladies," he choked out, his eyes glistening with tears. "He…he fell." He moved off, seemingly unable to speak. Susan stepped back, stunned by the words, feeling tears of her own grow in her eyes. Peter moved to give her a reassuring hug but she pushed him back, moving off to follow Eoywn, the blonde woman appearing devastated at the news.

"Are you all right?" Susan softly asked.

Eoywn rubbed at her eyes. "I…I felt…He was a great man and…"

Susan made a soft smile. "You felt something for him." She nodded. "He has that effect." She paused, realizing she was still referring to him in the present tense. She shook it off as she gazed at Eowyn. "You…felt something for him?"

The woman paused and nodded and Susan took a deep breath. "Eowyn…I've never been in love but I have known people who have. And…it does seem to me this may have been more of a…crush than true feelings." Eowyn flashed an angry look at her but Susan went on. "From what I've heard, he had another love…someone he truly cared for. Despite your feelings for him…I do not think they would have been returned."

Eowyn was silent, gazing down. "He was a good man," she whispered.

Susan felt herself moving to give her a hug. "He will be remembered," she told her. "But right now, your people need you to be strong. Your uncle, especially." She backed up to squeeze Eowyn's shoulder. "The last thing we need is for them to see us acting like little girls."

Eowyn smiled back boldly as Susan felt a bit of warmth at having made a friend here.

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Peter walked across the battlement roofs, looking over the Helm. It was with a professional eye, gauging defenses and where to place troops if need be. He knew it wasn't his call, of course, but it was hard to let those old instincts die. Frankly, it troubled him that the fortress was so wide open, easy to reach by any force. The walls were strong but there were still places an enemy could work at to weaken them. If Saruman hurled enough forces at it, they'd be hard-pressed to hold them back.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Edmund and Boromir approach. "Everyone settle in okay?" he asked.

Edmund nodded. "So far. Théoden is in his throne room, going over plans."

Peter took that in before moving away. "I'm going to see him. I've got a few ideas how to improve defenses."

"He doesn't strike me as the type who listens well, Pete," Edmund said.

"Well, he'll just have to learn then, won't he?" Peter said with a smile as he went.

Boromir chuckled as he watched the younger man go. "Your brother has quite the stubborn streak."

"Tell me about it," Edmund sighed. "It actually improved as we grew but it looks like it came back with a vengeance when we returned to England." He looked over the fortress. "I've been in sieges before. I don't really like them."

"Better to defend than to attack," Boromir said. "We learned that trying to take Osgiliath, a city by Gondor."

"Maybe." Edmund watched a horse grew closer and closer to the fortress. "Looks like we have a straggler."

"Probably a scout," Boromir said, joining him at the edge of the tower. "I suppose we should….listen…" He stopped as the horse came closer and its rider was fully in view. "Wait…"

Edmund's eyes widened as he saw it too. "I don't believe it…I do…not…bloody believe it!" The last words came out as a loud laugh.

Boromir whirled toward the gate ramparts. "Open the gate!" he called out. "It's Aragorn! Open them!" He didn't wait to listen but instead turned to run down the stairs, Edmund on his heels.

They came down to see a crowd gathering around Aragorn. His hair was ragged and his clothes appeared wet but he was alive and remarkably well. As he dismounted, a gruff voice came from the other side of the crowd. "Where is he! Get out of my way, I'm gonna kill him!" Gimli shoved his way through to face Aragorn, his eyes wide. "You…are the luckiest, bravest, most canny…" He lunged forward to hug the startled man. "Bless you, laddie, bless you!"

Aragorn smiled as the dwarf backed up and looked to Edmund and Boromir. "I knew it'd take more than a single Warg to finish you!" the elder man said with a laugh as he shook Aragorn's hand.

"It nearly was," Aragorn said with a tired sigh as he nodded to Edmund. "Where is the king?"

"The throne room," Edmund answered and Aragorn immediately headed over there. He walked up the broad steps leading to the main building and found Legolas waiting. "You're late," the elf said, showing no surprise at his appearance. He looked Aragorn over and wrinkled his nose. "You look terrible."

The man simply smiled and clapped a hand to the elf's shoulder. In return, Legolas handed him the pendant taken from the dead orc. Aragorn gave him a grateful smile as he headed to the throne room.

Inside, Théoden was glaring at Peter. "We have not the strength of arms for the fortifications you propose," he said in a flat tone.

"Then we make do with what we have," Peter argued. "Your Majesty, the fact is, this place is not suitable to hold up to a long-term siege."

"It has held up in the past," Théoden responded. "It shall do so again."

"No fortress is impregnable," Peter said, trying to hold in his temper. "I've seen a lot of strong ones fall."

"Yes, your vast experience in this…Narnia." Théoden didn't bother holding back the skepticism in his voice. "Forgive me if I do not hold to these tales of another world, my fanciful young friend."

"Now, listen--" Before Peter could snap, the doors to the throne room burst open to reveal a tired Aragorn. Peter and Théoden both stared in shock as the man strode in, Boromir, Edmund, Gimli, Legolas and Susan soon following in the doorway.

"How?" Peter gasped.

"River," Aragorn answered as he grabbed a pitcher of water on a table and quickly downed it. "I was fished out by a good horse, Brego." He wiped his lips as he let out a long sigh. "On the way back, I came across a great host from Isengard. Orcs, Uruk-Hai and more, loaded for bear with catapults, ladders, wagons…"

Everyone somberly took in the words, Théoden frowning. "A great host, you say?"

Aragorn nodded. "All of Isengard is emptied. Ten thousand at least."

Susan nearly choked at that and the rest weren't far behind. Théoden whirled about, his eyes wide. "Ten thousand?" he whispered.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose," Aragorn gravely stated. "To destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall."

A long silence echoed as Théoden took in the words. He then turned and strode toward the door, speaking out in a proud tone. "Let them come."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The group was soon at the main battlements, Théoden having told the soldiers what was coming so activity was faster than usual. He looked around the main causeway and the doors. "We shall cover the causeway and the gate from above," Théoden proclaimed. "No army has ever breached the Deepening Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg."

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs," Gimli growled. "These are Uruk-Hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."

"And they're a holy terror in a fight," Peter added.

Théoden glared at Gimli. "I have fought many battles, master dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep." Gimli seemed miffed as Théoden walked back around the battlements. "They will break upon the fortress like water on rock. Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn, we've seen it before. Crops can be resown, home rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."

There was a very fine line between confidence and arrogance and even Peter had to recognize Théoden had crossed to the latter. Aragorn agreed as he spoke out. "They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people! Down to the last child!"

Théoden whirled about, his voice dropping as he leaned in. "What would you have me do?" he whispered, the boldness gone from his voice. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread." He motioned about them, his voice full of emotion. "If this is to be our end…then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

"Oh, Lord," Susan moaned to herself, recognizing a last stand mentality when she saw it. Licking her lips, she moved forward. "My Lord, you must send out riders! Call for aid!"

"And who will come?" Théoden returned. "Elves? Dwarves?" He fixed a cool gaze on Aragorn. "We are not so lucky in our friends as some. The old alliances are dead."

"Not all," Boromir said as he stepped forward. "Gondor will answer."

He was taken aback at the venom as Théoden lashed at him. "Gondor?! You dare say Gondor will aid us?" He pointed a finger at the other man. "Where were you when the Westfold fell? Where were you when our enemies closed in around us? Where were _you_…" He stopped and shook his head. "No. Your father will never aid us. We are alone." He turned to march off toward a waiting Gamling. "Get the women and children to the caves."

"There's a man who could teach you about being stubborn, Pete," Edmund remarked.

Peter glared at him. "He's doing what he thinks is right."

"Too bad it's wrong," Gimli muttered.

"He is the King," Boromir quickly interjected. "We have to at least heed by his commands, no matter how we disagree with them."

Peter took a deep breath. "Susan, you can help with the civilians getting to shelter. We'd best get ready for a long night."

Everyone tried to ignore the possibility this could be the last night any of them saw.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sun was setting as the Deep prepared for war. Théoden was looking about the battlements and frowned when he saw Susan getting a fresh set of arrows. "My Lady," he said as he came to her. "I gave orders for all women to be sent to the caves."

"You did," she replied, not looking up at him.

"And yet you are here," Théoden said in a cool tone.

Susan glanced at him. "Many of those women would be willing to fight along with their men, sire."

"War is not the province of women," he said. "It is not right for them to risk the agonies of battle."

"Someone said something along those lines to my mother once," Susan replied in a cool tone of her own. "Her answer was 'give birth to four children and then say I don't understand pain.'" She looped her bow on her back as she turned to face Théoden. "Your niece would be here fighting. But she's your subject as well as blood so she's going below. However, with all respect to you, my lord, I am not one of your subjects."

Théoden's frown deepened. "Young lady…."

"Queen Susan," she interjected. "I know you don't believe that, sir, but it's true. I am a Queen and expect to be treated with that respect. Which means that, while I admire your attempts at protecting me, I intend to be there on the fighting line." With that, she picked up her bow and strode off.

Théoden watched her go before turning his head to where Peter and Edmund had been watching the whole thing. The two boys immediately made a show of looking elsewhere but Théoden's voice pulled them back. "Can you not talk to her?"

"What good would that do?" Peter asked.

"You're her brothers," Théoden insisted. "She will listen to you if you tell her to comply."

Peter and Edmund stared at him, then at each other, then burst out laughing. Edmund actually wiped a tear from his eye as Peter leaned against a wall. "You…you never had a strong-willed sister, did you, sire?" Peter managed to gasp out.

Théoden narrowed his eyes and frowned before walking off. Peter and Edmund were still chuckling when they found their way to the armory. The chuckling died out as they saw the men being prepared for battle. Many appeared to be over forty and others were younger than Edmund had been when the Pensevives first came to Narnia. Many appeared unsure holding the various weapons and being fitted in armor. Aragorn and Legolas were standing by, watching it all grimly.

Boromir moved through to speak to Aragorn in a low voice. "I've done a quick count. In total, our numbers are barely over three hundred."

"This is it?" Peter said, trying to keep calm. "These aren't soldiers, they're farmers, tradesmen…"

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli agreed.

"Or too few," Legolas said.

Edmund was glum as he looked about. "Remember those drills they had us doing? Back when the Germans started bombing and everyone thought the invasion was just a matter of time?"

Peter nodded. "They wanted everyone fighting. Even kids."

"We had to fight as kids," Edmund pointed out.

"But that does not make it right," Legolas snapped as he gazed about. "Look at them. They're scared." He suddenly started to speak in Elvish. Aragorn replied in the same language while everyone looked baffled and Legolas angrily replied.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn suddenly yelled as it became clear instantly what the argument had been about. A silence reigned before Aragorn turned and stalked off. Boromir was set to follow but Gimli put a hand to his arm. "Let him go, lad. Let him go."

Peter moved to Legolas, his face set. "Right…I think we can cross you off the list to give the pep talk."

Legolas glared at him. "We are outnumbered a thousand to one and more. There is no escape. There is no chance for victory."

He was unprepared for the flash of anger in Peter's eyes as he moved up. "There's _always_ a chance for victory," he snapped. "I've lost count of how many battles in history were won by the smaller force against overwhelming odds. It won't be easy and a lot of us will probably die but there's still a chance. But that's only if they have confidence and you've taken a lot of that away."

Legolas shook his head. "I've been in more battles than you can dream, Peter. I know a poor chance when I see one."

"But a chance nonetheless," Peter pressed on. He shook his head. "Aragorn believes in them. If nothing else, that should impress you." He turned to stalk off, leaving the elf lost in thought.

He was barely aware of where he was going before finding himself in the main throne room. He saw Théoden standing in the middle of the room, gazing outward. "Sire?" he called out. The man didn't reply and Peter slowly entered. "King Théoden?"

The man simply stood there, still gazing out as he spoke softly. "All my life, I have dedicated myself to protecting my people. To avoid war when I can. To fight when I could not. I wanted to save them, not bring them to doom."

"You don't know it's doom yet," Peter said gently. "Be confident and it can make a difference."

Théoden turned his head to him slowly as Gamling moved forward, holding pieces of armor. "I know I have not been…open to your claims of royalty," he said. "But whatever else…you are staying here. To fight with us. I respect that and I thank you for it."

Peter bowed his head. "These may not be my people, sire. But they are people and they deserve all the help we can give them to whatever end."

"To whatever end…" Théoden softly said as he turned his head to gaze back outward. When he spoke again, it was more to himself than Peter. "Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?"

Seeing Gamling attach the armor to the king, Peter realized this was not for his eyes and turned to walk off, hoping his words would be a help. Because they could use all they could get.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Night had fallen with a chill that came not with the weather. Susan pulled her cloak around her to cut back the wind but it wasn't enough to halt the chill in her heart at their chances. She saw Edmund and Boromir by a wall, softly talking and was struck by the odd bond the two men seemed to have created. "What are you two discussing?" she asked as she came up to them.

Edmund managed a smile at her. "Just relating to him something I read in a book over summer about the Alamo."

"The Alamo?" Susan frowned. "What is that, Rome?"

"America."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "You're going to look to America for inspiration, Ed?"

He arched one right back at her. "I'd remind you that it was that small collection of colonies that beat the great British empire to achieve independence." Susan had to cede the point as Edmund went on. "Anyway, these Texans made a stand against the Spanish army at this old fort called the Alamo. Nowhere near as big as this, less than two hundred men but they held out a long while. It became something of an inspiration, a rallying cry to their people to fight back and they ended up winning against Spain."

"Right," Susan pursed her lips. "And what happened to the Texans _inside_ the Alamo?"

Edmund's smile faltered. "Ah…dead to the last man."

Susan rolled her eyes. "And you wonder why we worry about your grades."

Boromir forced a smile. "Let us hope we fare better." He sighed as he shook his head. "I can't forget what Théoden said about Gondor."

"He was angry," Edmund said.

"But he was right," Boromir stated. "I hate to face it but…my father would not give our troops to help anyone else. I fear for him. I fear his love for his city has turned to obsession and blinded him to all else."

Susan brushed back a lock of hair as she gazed outward. Her face tightened as she saw movement in the darkness. "I think…they're here."

The two men looked over, both alert just a loud horn boomed through the valley. Instantly, soldiers along the walls were prepared, bows and shields and other weapons raised. Boromir frowned as the horn sounded again. "That's not an orc horn."

Susan was raising her bow as she saw the figures approach the ramp and she could see they weren't orcs at all. They were regal figures in golden armor and black cloaks, each holding an exquisite bow. Banners were held as well with symbols she recognized. "That's…from Lothlorien," she gasped.

"Open the gate!" Boromir called out as the trio began to move down the stairs. The doors creaked open to allow a platoon of elven soldiers to march in. They trailed in perfect formation, stalking past the soldiers who gazed at them in amazement. The column stopped before the main steps as Théoden stepped down from the main building, clad in proud armor.

Susan recognized the elf in the front with his golden armor as Haldir, the elf captain from the forests. He bowed to Théoden as the king shook his head. "How is this possible?" he asked.

Haldir rose. "I bring word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell," he stated in a strong voice despite its low volume. "An alliance once existed between men and elves. Long ago, we fought…and died…together." His attention was caught by Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and Peter racing to the stair top. "We come to honor that allegiance."

Aragorn raced down to embrace the elf. Haldir seemed embarrassed but returned it. "You are most welcome!" the Ranger said. Susan noted how he was now wearing new leather over his clothes, set for war.

In a clap of movement, every elf swung their heads around to the stairs. In perfect unison, they turned about and stood at ease, bows lowered. "We are honored to fight with men once more," Haldir declared.

Théoden smiled. "Thank you. All of you." He paused and then turned his head. "King Peter…perhaps now is the time to detail some of those defense ideas you mentioned?"

Peter smiled and bowed his head as they led Haldir off. Susan glanced to Gimli, who appeared to be wearing a chain mail shirt bigger than he was. "I heard things were difficult between Aragorn and Legolas."

"Ah, elven and ranger tempers, they have to clash sometime," the dwarf muttered. "They've settled it now." He glanced about and shook his head. "Never in all my days did I think I'd be happy to see a bunch of elves."

Boromir smiled at Edmund. "It looks like your brother was right not to give up hope."

Edmund smiled back but inside, he couldn't shake the dark feeling that while the odds had improved, the battle to come still promised a long and bloody night. He could only hope the protection of that great lion still extended or else the legend of Narnia's kings and queens was going to have a nasty end.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**A bit longer than I expected but it's a lot of set up. Don't worry about it conforming too much, do promise a few changes once the battle itself comes. Again, all comments welcomed.**


	15. Re Routing by Rangers

Gollum is trying to catch a fish in the river

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Re-Routing by Rangers

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

After rocky valleys, fetid swamps and the massive Black Gate, the Forests of Ithilien were like paradise for Lucy. Oh, they were still lifeless for a forest, not as bustling in trees as Lothlorien but it was nice and cool and felt much better than their previous spots. The hobbits seemed as effected, in better spirits as they walked along, following their odd guide.

Gollum appeared to be more oddly cheerful then he'd been before. Lucy had thought she'd heard him whispering to himself in the night but couldn't quite make it out. Whatever the case, he was in high spirits, racing along a river as he chased a fish. "Hey Stinker!" Sam called out. "Don't go running too far ahead!"

"Why do you do that?" Frodo asked in a harsh tone.

"What?" Sam frowned at him as he turned around.

Frodo nodded toward Gollum. "Run him down all the time, call him names."

Sam frowned deeper, as if not understanding something obvious. "Because…that's what he is, Mr. Frodo. There's naught left in him but lies and deceit. It's the Ring he wants. It's all he cares about."

Frodo shook his head with a stern expression. "You have no idea what it did to him. What it's still doing to him." He made to walk off but stopped, his voice soft. "I want to help him, Sam."

"Why?"

"Because I have to believe he can come back."

Lucy gazed at Gollum and sighed. "He can't, Frodo." His eyes whipped to her. "I'm sorry but…look at him. He had that ring for centuries. _Centuries_. You saw what it did to Boromir with only a few looks. He can't just change from all that, he…"

"What do you know about it!" Lucy nearly jumped back at the venom in Frodo's voice as he snapped at her. "Nothing! You're just a child, you have no idea of this, of the danger so just stay back!"

Lucy blinked at him before setting her jaw to walk off. Frodo watched her go, his anger melting. "I don't know…why I said that."

"I do," Sam softly said as he came up to him. "It's the Ring. You can't take your eyes off it, I've seen you." His voice was low but intense with emotion. "You're not eating. You barely sleep. It's taken a hold of you, Mr. Frodo. You have to fight it."

Frodo's anger returned as he moved in to his oldest friend. "I know what I have to do, Sam. The Ring is entrusted to me! It's my own task! Mine! My own!" He turned to stalk off as Sam called after him.

"Can't you hear yourself? Don't you know who you sound like?" He shook his head as Frodo walked on, following Gollum down the river. Sam began to follow, coming up to Lucy. "He didn't mean it," he was quick to say.

"I know," she responded. They walked in silence before she spoke. "The closer we get, the worse it gets for him."

Sam nodded. "I know. But it's where we have to go. If we have to put up with Stinker to get there, fine but after that…he can drown himself for all I care."

Lucy bit her lip. "Sam…I know you don't trust Gollum…Smeagol…whatever he calls himself. I don't either. But we need his trust and constantly running him down isn't going to get it."

"I don't like him."

"Well, you have to learn to pretend to like people you can't truly stand."

Sam managed a slight smile. "You learn that as a Queen?"

"No. School."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A benefit of being out of the swamps was that they had a better spot to set up camp. Sam was putting up a pot over a fire, fixing a pair of rabbits Gollum had caught for them. The creature had bitten one raw before Sam had tore it away and insisted on a better way to prepare them. Gollum was apparently not a fan of this way.

"Argh! What'sssss it doing?" he asked as he gazed at the burning pot of stew. "Stupid fat hobbit! It ruinsssss it!"

"What's to ruin?" Sam scoffed. "There's hardly any meat on 'em."

Lucy sighed as she sat by the fire. "At least it's better than weeds or those bad fish."

"What we need is a few good taters," Sam said with some of his old cheer.

Gollum wrinkled his nose. "What's taterssss, Precioussss? What's taterssss, eh?"

"Po-Ta-Toes!" Sam enunciated for him. "Boil em, mash em, stick em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish…"

"Stop," Lucy moaned. "You're as bad as Pippin!" She wiped her watering mouth. Gollum frowned as he sniffed the stew and backed up, waving a hand before his face. Sam just smiled. "Even you can't say no to this."

"Ooooh yessss we could!" Gollum leaned in to hiss at Sam's face. "Give it to ussss rawwww…and wrrrrringling!" He scampered off as Sam just shook his head.

Lucy was preparing to get a small bowl from the backpack when she realized that Frodo was missing. "Frodo?" she called out. "Frodo, where are you?" Sam was instantly concerned as the two rose and headed over to the nearby bushes. They saw Frodo lying on the ground looking over a hillside. Sam was about to speak when he saw movement below. He quickly fell to the ground and crawled to join Frodo. Lucy followed, wincing as the thorny bushes tore at her dress a bit.

The wide clearing ahead was filled with dozens of soldiers, most clad in the same dark armor they had seen at the Black Gate, all armed for bear. "Who are they?" Lucy whispered.

"Wicked men." All three started and craned their heads toward Gollum, who had appeared beside them. "Ssssservantssss of Saruon," the creature intoned. "They are called to Mordor. The Dark One is gathering all armies to him. He will soon be ready, not long now."

"Ready for what?" Lucy whispered.

Gollum gazed at her as if the answer was obvious. "To make his war. The last war that will cover all the world in shadow."

A loud roaring sound got their attention and Lucy's eyes widened as she saw a massive creature lumber into the clearing. It looked like an elephant but with huge tusks and stood several stories tall. Its back was covered by a large carrier, a transport loaded with more soldiers.

"An Oliphaunt," Sam breathed, shaking his head. "No one at home will believe this."

"Maybe…we should go," Lucy suggested. "If they notice us…"

Before the others could speak, a flurry of arrows suddenly came from all sides of the clearing, aimed at the army. Many soldiers were cut down before they even realized they were under attack. The others tried to defend themselves but there was nowhere to hide as the arrows continued to fly down. The Oliphaunt reared up, roaring as arrows pierced its skin. Its driver tried to pull in the reins only to be cut down by an arrow and fell back, the reigns slipping and the behemoth was on the loose. An arrow flew up to hit a soldier on the large carrier on the back and he let out a short yell as he fell from it and to the ground, right before the hiding trio.

"I think we'd better be moving," Frodo said, pulling back the shocked Lucy. She weakly nodded, her eyes fixed on the dead body lying before her. She backed up only to feel herself running into something strong and solid. Whirling about, Lucy saw a tall man standing before her. He was dressed in dark brown leather with a hood over his head, a bow in his hands. Other men dressed the same were suddenly around them, grabbing onto Frodo and Sam. Lucy felt her own hands pulled together and rope binding them before she could even cry out in protest.

"Wait!" Sam called out. "We're innocent travelers!"

"There are no travelers in this land." Those words came from a tall figure who stepped forward. His hood was drawn back to show a handsome young face lined with a light beard and deep eyes. Something about those features struck Lucy as familiar but she couldn't see why. By the way the others made way for him, this man was apparently the leader. "Only servants of the Dark Tower walk this way," he continued.

Frodo tried to speak calmly. "We are bound to an errand of secrecy. Those who claim to oppose the enemy would do well not to hinder us."

"The enemy?" The man brushed past them to look at the dead soldier. He leaned down to roll him over and gaze at his face. "His sense of duty was no less than yours, I deem. "You wonder what his name was. Where he cam from. If he was really evil at heart. What lies or threats led him on this long march from home. If he would not have rather stayed there in peace." He sighed as he rose. "War will make corpses of all us."

He turned back and nodded to his men. "We shall take them with us."

_Wonderful, _Lucy thought. _On top of all else, we're being kidnapped by Robin Hood and his Merry Men._

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Lucy had no idea how far they were walked or to where since as soon as their hands were secured, bags were placed over their heads. She was aware of being dragged up hills and cliffs and over rocks and the sound of running water filled her ears. Finally, the trio were made to stand in one spot as the bags were removed.

Blinking, Lucy took in their surroundings. They appeared to be inside a large cavern with a waterfall running outside. It was nice and cool with a mist of air as men milled about. Supplies and barrels were stacked about along with weapons.

The leader of the group walked up to him, his leather jacket off, in just a white shirt. He examined them before speaking. "My men say you are Orc spies."

"Spies?" Sam said, insulted. "Now, see here…"

"Well, if you're not spies, who are you?"

The three exchanged glances before Frodo spoke up. "We are Hobbits of the Shire. Frodo Baggins is my name and this is Samwise Gamgee."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Your bodyguard?"

Sam gave him a sour look. "His gardener."

Lucy smiled and held out her hands, trying to defuse this politely. "Hello, I'm Lucy Pensevieve of London, Queen of Narnia. Pleased to meet you." She did her best to extend a handshake with her bound hands.

Their interrogator ignored it. "And where is your skulking friend? That gangrel creature?"

Frodo hesitated and Lucy quickly spoke in. "We're not sure but if you find him, take it easy on him. He's…not well."

"Lucy," Frodo hissed.

She leaned in to him. "First rule of being abducted, try not to openly lie to your captors."

"I thank you for being forthcoming, child," the man said with amusement. "Perhaps you can continue that vein of truth as you tell me what you are doing here."

The three exchanged looks before Frodo picked up the tale again. "We set out from Rivendell with seven companions. One we lost in Mória. Two were my kin. A Dwarf there was also, and an Elf. And two men, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Boromir of Gondor."

The man's eyes widened as Lucy spoke up. "My brothers, Peter and Edmund and my sister, Susan, we all joined their travels just before Moria. It's…well, it's a bit complicated and…."

"You're a friend of Boromir?" the man's question came quick and intense.

Frodo was jarred by how he said it but went on. "Yes…for my part."

The man slowly nodded. "He was well when last you saw him?"

"The last…I saw…" Frodo obviously did not want to discuss their last meeting.

"Just what's it to you, anyhow?" Sam asked with suspicion.

"Everything, young hobbit," the man said. "Boromir is my brother."

The three were surprised. "You're…Faramir?" Lucy exclaimed. "He was talking of you!"

"Has he?" Faramir appeared less than convinced. "We have heard nothing of him since he left us for a quest." He was silent for a few minutes. "Unbind them." As his men moved, Faramir spoke. "You shall remain here for now. You will be watched but otherwise can roam free but do not escape." He turned to walk off.

"I see the stubborn streak runs in the family," Lucy said. She was aware of Frodo and Sam gazing at her. "What?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

After the last few days of poor food and Lembas bread, the stores of the Gondorian Rangers were a feast for Lucy. She finished her meal and wiped at her face with a napkin as Sam chewed on his own food. "What do you think they want with him?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. Faramir had interrupted them just as they were eating to take Frodo away. Sam was unsure of what they wanted but knew it couldn't be good.

"Do you think we can get their help getting to MOrdor?" Lucy asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. "From what Boromir said, doesn't sound like his father is open to aiding anyone now. And bringing the…" He looked about and then lowered his voice. "You know what…to him might not be the best move."

Before Lucy could reply, Frodo came back to them, his face drawn. "What is it?" Sam asked.

Frodo sighed as he sat. "They found Gollum. He was in some pool that's off limits to anyone, catching fish."

Sam moaned. "I knew that rotter would get us into more hot water!"

"I tried to talk him but they grabbed him and it…it sounds like he blames me for it." Frodo looked down. "Faramir is talking to him now."

"The Ring," Lucy breathed. "Gollum will tell him about the Ring."

Sam's face was drawn as he looked about then leaned in to whisper. "Go, Mr. Frodo. You can do it. Use the ring, just this once. Put it on, disappear and go."

Frodo shook his head. "I can't…" His voice was low and tired. "You were right, Sam. You tried to tell me but…" He sighed as he looked up at his friend. "I'm sorry. The Ring's taken me, Sam. If I put it on…_he'll_ find me. _He'll _see."

There was a rustle as Faramir burst in, his sword in his hands, his face intent. "So…this is the answer to all the riddles. Two halfings…a girl…and a host of men at my call." He lifted the sword, the point sliding the chain around Frodo's neck up to reveal the gold band. "And the Ring of Power within my grasp…"

The Ring glinted invitingly in the light, Lucy feeling its sway even as she stepped back. Faramir was transfixed as he came forward, his voice soft and filled with lust and power. "A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality…to prove his worth to his father at last…"

"Give me the ring, Frodo," Lucy heard herself whisper even though the words didn't register in her mind. "I can protect it for you. Just for a little while…" She reached her hand to the blade, Faramir's eyes flickering, his grip tightening as if ready to strike her should she come too close…

Frodo leaned against the wall, grabbing at the ring. "No!" He turned away, burying himself against the wall. Faramir blinked as if his head was clearing as Sam protectively leapt before Frodo. "Stop! Leave him alone!" He shook his head, his eyes tearful. "Don't you understand? He's got to destroy it. That's where we're going. Into Mordor! To the mountain of fire!"

"Please," Lucy whispered. "Please, just let us go." She was shaking as she realized what she had just been saying, the fear of herself greater than the entire batch of soldiers around them.

Faramir simply stared at them as Damrod, his elderly second in command, came up to him. "Osgiliath is under attack," he intoned. "They call for reinforcements."

"Please, it's such a burden," Sam pleaded. "Will you not help him?"

Faramir stared at them before turning to Damrod. "Prepare to leave. The Ring will go to Gondor." He marched away without a word, leaving the captives behind.

Lucy looked at Frodo, was slipping the ring back into his shirt. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's all right," Frodo said, giving her his best reassuring smile. "I'm…getting used to it."

Sam let out a long sigh. "Out of the pan and into the pot. And I thought we'd run into the troubles when we reached Mordor."

"Something tells me worse is yet to come, Sam," Frodo whispered as he stroked the chain with the Ring. Feeling that rush of desire deep within herself once more, Lucy was forced to agree.

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**Next chapter is the big one: The Battle of Helm's Deep.**


	16. The Battle of Helm's Deep

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**The Battle of Helm's Deep**

**As with all fanfics dealing with Helm's Deep, a bit hard to make such a visual part of the movie work on the page. But here's hoping it does well.**

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The darkness sweeping the valley was not just due to the night. It was the chill as the orc army approached Helm's Deep. There was no mistaking them. The sheer size was so great that their march could be heard like thunder from a mile away. Torches lit about as they headed in, wave upon wave of black-clad figures armed to the teeth. They marched ahead with an aura about them. Invincibility, arrogance, lust for blood and sheer evil that added to the fear their appearance alone gave.

Upon the battlements, Peter, Edmund, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stood, watching them approach. Well, all but Gimli, who was having difficulty peeking over the edge of the battlements. "You could have picked a better spot!"

Peter watched as the orcs marched forward and shivered. "Now I know how Henry the V felt at the Battle of Agincourt."

"Actually, I was thinking…."

"Don't bring up the Texans again, Ed. Or the Spartans."

"Fine. But I don't think the St. Crispin's Day speech will have the same impact here."

Boromir let out a long breath. "This won't be an easy victory."

"If at all," Edmund couldn't help muttering.

"Well, laddie," Gimli spoke up to Aragorn. "Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

"Do not despair, Aragorn," Legolas said. "Your friends are with you."

"Let's hope we last the night," Gimli muttered.

Aragorn gave them a small smile before nodding to the two brothers. "To your stations."

Peter clasped a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "We'll lift a pint later," he managed to smile before heading to the left side of the walkway. Edmund paused as he looked at his brother. "You all right, Pete?"

Peter gazed at him. "If we die here…what do you think happens back home?" Edmund couldn't think of an answer and also didn't want to truly consider the question. Instead, he turned and made his way toward the right as Boromir headed toward the tower above the walkway.

The elves had stationed themselves all along the battlements, all at attention, bows held in their hands. With their added forces, Théoden had bowed to some reason by the siblings and had the younger boys sent below to the caves with the women and children. There were still plenty of Rohan men ready to fight but the elves' arrival had given them a nice boost in courage. Still, seeing the massive army coming at them was enough to shake the most confident fellow.

Boromir was soon at the tower, seeing Théoden standing on the high platform where he could see the entire field of battle. Susan was at the tower edge, her bow held. She gave him a slow nod, her face impassive and Boromir had to be impressed at the courage she was showing standing by the men. Any doubts to her royalty had been silenced as she showed a strength he could only wish to find in his own father.

A drop of water fell upon Peter's shoulder, then another and another and suddenly, a pounding rain fell upon the fortress. Peter let out a sad sigh at it as he adjusted his helmet and pulled up his sword. He would have much preferred a clear night but the elements always answered to themselves. The orc army had paused about thirty yards from the wall. They stood in place, the rain pounding on them as well, staring at their target.

Peter heard Aragorn yelling in elvish and suspected it was the same words he had given the other soldiers before. _Show no mercy! For you will receive none!_ He glanced at the Elven warrior around him. All were impassive, showing no fear as they raised their bows up.

The orcs began to move. Not with steps but with their hands, slamming their long spears into the ground over and over again. A thunder of noise echoed through the land as they slammed spears and pounded their chestplates, rocking the area with sound as they tried to intimidate those within the Helm. As one, every person on the battlement raised their bow, aiming it out at the army and stood ready.

Susan blinked back rain as she focused on the army before her. She could feel the nervousness of the human men, many having never held a bow before but doing their best. One elderly man next to her was shaking, trying to grip the string right in the slick rain. As the pounding of the orcs grew louder, he shook more until his finger slipped and the arrow streaked outward.

For an accidental shot, it was rather good, the arrow burrowing right into the neck of an orc. It stopped its pounding, standing still, more from surprise than pain. The pounding instantly stopped as the other orcs reacted in surprise of their own. "Hold!" Susan called out, Aragorn echoing her word. Slowly, the pierced orc fell forward and lay still.

Susan shot a glare at the archer but held her tongue. _Might as well have shot Archduke Ferdinand while you were at it!_ She curbed the thought, knowing it really made no difference in the long run.

The orcs began to growl then roared out loud in anger. It was less the loss of a comrade and more the insult that the humans had drawn first blood. The roar grew louder and louder and then they broke into a charge at the huge wall before them.

"And so it begins," Théoden intoned.

At a command from Aragorn, the elves began to fire arrows, a rain harder than the one coming down from above sailing out to cut down the entire first row of orcs. More came, of course, charging onward. "Fire at will!" Susan shouted as she let loose, arrows sailing down from the battlement. More orcs went down but they kept on coming and their own archers began to fire back, striking elves down from the wall, some flying backward into the yard while one fell forward onto the orcs troops and was promptly torn limb from limb.

Peter watched as ladders were brought forward under the hail of arrows, placed on the bottom of the wall and then lifted upward. He waited until they were at the height of their journey and then shouted. "Light it up!" He grabbed a torch and thrust it onto the wall. In the middle of the wall, Aragorn did the same as Edmund completed it on the far side.

The oil laid out along the entire wall ignited and a wall of flame washed across the walls right as the ladders began to lock onto them. Several orcs leapt back off the ladder in surprise while others found themselves catching on fire and fell screaming. Peter smiled as he saw his strategy working, the makeshift flame barrier helping to keep some of the orcs back.

It wasn't infallible, of course as several Uruk-Hai were willing to brave the flames. They seemed larger than the usual type, clad only in loincloths with helmets marked with Saruman's symbol. As they leapt over the flames, they began to slash outward with giant scythes, cutting elves down. Peter ducked one and stabbed out, nailing it in the sternum and then across the throat. He was grateful that for all their strength, these berserkers were as easy to stab as any other orc. Peter felt himself go back into warrior mode as he cut down more of the attackers.

Edmund was in much the same boat. The rain had let up but had also dimmed some of the fire so more orcs were piling over the battlements. So far, the defenders were holding them, Gimli and Legolas cutting down several while yelling out their scores, which Edmund couldn't believe. He was too busy avoiding the strikes of Uruks while stabbing out while he could, blocking a blow on his shield before slicing a creature across the throat. He saw Aragorn at the middle of it all, cutting off limbs as well as slicing down orcs, a fury that even the attackers could not withstand.

Time was always a funny thing in a battle. Peter had been in ones that seemed to last an eternity but were only minutes. Other times, it could seem to go quickly but hours had passed. It was thus difficult to tell how long they'd been fighting as Peter cut down Uruk after Uruk as they came up the ladders. Edmund was kicking over a few, getting some glee seeing the ladders fall back to crush orcs on the ground. High above, Susan was firing off arrows when she saw a squad of orcs slowly coming up the walkway. They were making a wedge, holding shields over their heads as they approached to block arrows. Boromir saw them as well and let out a yell. "Aragorn!"

Seeing the situation, Aragorn quickly directed some elves, who fired a volley across the field and into the orc wave, sending several of them down. Others fell into the chasm beneath the bridge while the defenders above took to dropping large rocks atop them to shake them up more.

Watching it all, Théoden let a smug smile come to his face. They had taken casualties but were still strong and held the walls fast against the waves of orcs. As hard as they tried, the invaders couldn't get a foothold and as long as they remained true, the Helm would hold. "Is this it?" he called out. "Is this all you can conjure up, Saruman?"

Peter kicked back a ladder and then struck at an orc, stabbing it in the chest. The creature was still snarling as Peter ran him back and pushed him over the wall. He paused as she saw several orcs pulling some large ball-shaped devices toward a small hole in the wall. It was a grating that led to the water supply, a small creek, nowhere big enough for an orc to fit through. Peter frowned as he saw the orcs pile more of the strange balls up. They were large and spiked and for some reason reminded him of…

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what they were. "Off the wall!" He yelled out. "Off! Off! Fall back, get off the wall!" He grabbed at some of the elves, pulling them from fights. "BACK!"

High above, Susan watched as the orcs parted ways to form a path between two columns. A berserker ran in, holding a burning torch and racing to the causeway. _What is this, the Middle-Earth Olympics?_ Susan wondered. She saw Aragorn yelling at Legolas, who fired an arrow into the creature's shoulder. It faltered but still kept running. Something told Susan it was important to bring this thing down and fired an arrow of her own, grazing its back. It kept right on going as another of Legolas' arrows hit its neck. With a leap, it went into the opening, its torch born high.

And there came a sight and sound the Pensevieves knew all too well but had never expected to see or hear in Middle-Earth.

With a blast louder than any thunder, the entire section of the wall over the causeway erupted in a giant explosion. Rocks were hurled outward along with bodies, flying in all directions. Several large boulders smashed into the orc armies, the orcs who had cheered the torch bearer on blasted aside by the explosion. The shockwave knocked everyone on the remainder of the wall back, several knocked unconscious. Smoke filtered as water from the small river washed into the opening.

Atop the high tower, Théoden stared in complete shock. For the first time in memory, Helm's Deep had been breached by a hostile force. With a roar of joy, the orc army charged in, pushing into the narrow opening and into the yard.

Edmund was shaking himself off, trying to get his bearings as he rose up. He clutched his sword as he saw the orcs come in. He heard a cry as Gimli leapt down from the broken part of the wall and landed atop the attackers and into a pool of water. Shaking himself off, Edmund saw the orcs were taking advantage of the new chaos to increase their climbing onto the walls. "Back up!" he yelled. "Hold them back!"

Peter was rising up himself, glancing about. He's managed to get a lot of elves clear but many had been blasted away with the wall. He saw the orcs charging in and also witnessed the amazing sight of Legolas throwing a shield down the steps and riding on top of it, firing his arrow off all the way. He kicked the shield so it flew point first into an orc and stabbed another with an arrow. Peter quickly began to cut down the orcs who had come over the ladders during the defenders' distraction, slicing down several as he called to the elves to fight back.

Aragorn had gotten back to his feet, calling to the elves in the yard. They let out a volley of arrows to cut down the first wave of orcs entering. With another command, the elves brought out their long swords and charged forward, Aragorn in the lead. Most knocked aside the long spears the orcs had brought to bear but a few elves were staked onto them like meat. The battle was soon picking up a new pace as Peter launched himself into the fray, slicing down orcs as soon as he could. Gimli was attacking with his axe in a dwarven frenzy while Legolas had wrapped his bow over his back and was using a pair of daggers to cut down those attacking him.

Atop the battlements, Susan was recovering from the shock of the explosion to see the orcs on the walkway approaching the gates. "Brace the gates!" Théoden ordered as a wave appeared to go through the column, orcs knocked off the bridge and to the moat below. The wave parted to show a huge battering ram that they started to slam at the doors. Boromir was looking down as he waved behind him. "Bring it up!"

Four men moved quickly, pulling up a pair of large cauldrons from the kitchen, filled to the brim with oil. At Boromir's command, they turned them over and spilled the contents on the orcs below. They were startled, sputtering but kept on ramming. Grabbing a torch, Boromir hurled it down upon the wave. It ignited the oil and the orcs found themselves on fire. They screamed out, dropping the ram as several leapt off the bridge in burning comets to the ground below. Flickers of flame remained upon the ram, keeping the rest back.

"That'll buy us a bit of time," Susan said, gazing outward. She saw the orcs rushing in through the yard and the walls, the defenders doing their best but the waves were simply overwhelming. She swallowed, memories of past battles flying through her head and knowing this time there was no Aslan to help save the day at the end.

Théoden was watching as well and could see the forces on the wall and yard were being overwhelmed. "Aragorn!" he bellowed. "Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!" The warrior nodded as he began waving and calling to the elves to get back.

On the wall, Haldir heard the call as he was slicing an orc down. The distraction was enough for another to stab him in the lower side. The elf captain gasped as he cut the attacker down, holding a hand to the wound. That left his back exposed as a berserker charged in, its weapon held high and ready to slice him down…

The berserker froze in place as a sword slammed its way through its chest from behind. Edmund grunted as he pulled it out, the creature staggering as Haldir whirled about to cut him down. The elf nodded. "My thanks, young King."

"No problem," Edmund responded as he offered an arm to help the elf off to the Keep. It was a running battle against orcs all the way, their forces continuing to pour in. Legolas grabbed Gimli to drag the dwarf off as the remainder of the defenders headed off the Hornburg and to the Keep. A line of them set up by the stairs to defend, firing off arrows at the orcs while Aragorn, Peter, Gimli and Legolas raced up.

Susan cursed under her breath as she saw the ram being picked up by orcs and rammed into the doors again and again. She knew Boromir was already moving down to help others brace it and did her best to fire arrows but the orcs kept their shields raised up. With a heave, the ram shattered through the door, knocking men in the hallway back. Orcs immediately fired crossbows to cut some down before others could attack with spears. Théoden felt an orc spear pierce his shoulder but ignored the pain to stab his attacker in the throat.

Falling back, he saw Peter, Aragorn and Gimli approach. "We need to brace the gate," he hissed, holding his shoulder.

"How much time do you need?" Aragorn asked.

"As much as you can give me!"

Nodding, Aragorn led the boy and the dwarf to a side door. They were soon outside, standing and staring at the orcs pounding on the gate around the corner. "Come on, we can take them!" Gimli whispered with an eagerness that once again made Peter wonder about the dwarf's sanity.

Aragorn seemed to agree as he stared at the dwarf. "It's a long way."

Gimli seemed to consider that, bowing his head and muttering something under his breath. "What?" Aragorn asked.

"I canna jump the distance, you'll have to toss me!" Gimli snapped. Aragorn nodded and reached over but the dwarf held up a hand. "Ah…don't tell the elf."

"Not a word," Aragorn promised. He took Gimli by the scruff and with a mighty pull, tossed him over to the bridge. The dwarf immediately began chopping away with his axe and a loud battle cry. Peter accepted Aragorn's hand to be helped over and then Aragorn himself jumped into the fray. The trio worked back to back, hacking and slicing and cutting down Uruk after Uruk, pushing them over the bridge before slicing at them. Seeing the break, Théoden quickly gave orders to brace the gate with beams.

Edmund and Haldir had managed to make it back to the Keep as they heard a whistling sound. A large grapple buried itself into the wall under the defenders. Another was fired on a spear, pinning an unfortunate soldier to a nearby wall. The orcs below began to pull and a huge ladder was pulled upward, dozens of orcs atop it. Legolas pulled up his bow to fire an arrow at one of the lines, cutting it in half. It came loose and the ladder fell backward, crushing orcs on the ground. But it still wasn't enough.

"Too many," Susan groaned to herself as she saw them coming in. "There's too many of them!"

Théoden's men had just completed putting up the barriers on the gate. "Aragorn!" the king called out. "Gimli! Peter, get out of there!" He put up one final block as the trio backed up to the door, the orcs moving in on them. Boromir appeared beside Susan and dropped a rope down, letting Aragorn grab it. Taking Gimli in the other hand, the ranger began to climb up. Peter took the opportunity to cut down two orcs with mighty swings and kick another off the bridge before he grabbed the rope and followed them. Above, Boromir, Edmund and Legolas joined to pull them up and out of danger.

Susan moved to Peter, her face drawn. "They're still coming at us!"

Peter big his lip as he tried to fight the fear seeing the orcs charging in. He heard Théoden's voice calling out. "Fall back! Fall back!" Grabbing Susan, Peter began to move toward the rush of men and elves falling back to the main throne room. Behind them, the gates began to shatter under the ram while orcs ran up the steps from the Hornburg and over the walls. Like locusts, they kept on coming, cutting down any human or elf unfortunate enough to be in their path.

Susan fired off an arrow, Legolas next to her, firing in the other direction. The two backed up as the defenders left made their way to the throne room. Immediately, they began piling up whatever was at hand to block the doorway. "That's not going to hold them long," Peter grumbled.

"The fortress has fallen," Théoden intoned in a flat voice. "It is over."

"You always said that Helm's Deep would never fall while men defended it!" Aragorn snapped. "They still defend it! They have died defending it!"

"We have to get the women and children out of the caves," Susan said. "There's another way to the mountains, isn't there?"

"There is one passage," Gamling confirmed. "But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many." As if to punctuate his words, the door began ramming as the Uruks attacked it.

"Susan, go down and get them moving," Peter said. "Barricade the exit behind you."

"I'm not leaving!" Susan protested.

Peter put a hand to her. "Su…please. They'll need you."

Susan shook her head. "I'm not leaving you two to get killed here alone!"

"It's out of our hands, Susan," Peter sadly said, his eyes drawn but fighting to keep calm. "Please."

She set her jaw. "Is that a command?"

"No," Peter said. "Because I know you'll ignore it. It's a favor for your brother. Please."

She stared at him and then reached to hug him tightly and kiss his cheek. She reached to give the same to Edmund. She wanted to say something but knew she wouldn't be able to speak without breaking down. Instead, she moved to the caves. She paused and impulsively reached to hug and kiss Legolas' cheek. She then headed off, leaving the elf blinking in confusion.

"So much death," Théoden intoned. "What can men do against such reckless hate?"

"They can fight," Haldir told him, seeming disgusted at the man's weakness. "As my people have done. Fight to the last man."

"He's right," Peter said, stepping forward, gazing at the man with his own regal look. "Fight on, your majesty. Even if this is the end, make it memorable, that's what you said."

"Ride out with me."

Everyone turned to see Aragorn gazing at the window before looking back at them. His face seemed fired up, as if reinvigorated by determination. "Ride out and meet them."

Théoden managed a grim smile. "For death and glory?"

"For Rohan," Peter stressed. "For your people."

"The sun is rising," Gimli noted.

Théoden gazed out a window to see light shining in and nodded. "Yes…" His old strength returned as he straightened. "Yes." He paced about, his voice now booming. "The Horn of Helm Hammerhead shall sound in the Deep…" He faced them. "One last time!"

"Yes!" Gimli yelled as he ran to a set of steps leading up.

"Gamling! Horses!" At his king's command, Gamling moved to gather together the horses that had been stationed near the hall when the attack came. As he did, Théoden moved in, a hand to Aragorn's shoulder. "Man of the Dunedain." He put a hand to Boromir. "Man of Gondor." His gaze fell upon Peter and Edmund. "And my young kings of Narnia…Let this be the hour we draw swords together."

The horses were gathered and the warriors were soon on top of them. The Uruks continued to ram as the doors began to gave way. "Fell deeds await," Théoden hissed from his horse.

Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords.

"Now for wrath…"

Edmund and Peter exchanged a long look.

"Now for ruin…"

The doors smashed inward.

"And the red dawn!" Théoden yanked his helmet on as the Uruks began to enter the room. Seeing the monsters who had slaughtered so many piling in, anger took Peter as he thrust his sword outward.

_"For Narnia! And for Aslan!"_

"_Forth Eorlingas!"_ Théoden kicked his horse and it charged forward, the others following. High above, Gimli blew into a waiting pipe and the massive horns on the side of the fortress let out a wild bellow unheard for years. The horses charged in, their riders doing their best to cut down whoever was in their path, knocking orcs aside as they charged. Peter and Edmund cut away hard, each thinking of their sisters and how this could give them a chance to survive, even if cost them their lives.

Peter cut an orc when he saw Aragorn staring upward. He followed the gaze up to see a white figure at the top of the hill at the valley, a staff in his hands as his white steed rose up. "Gandalf," he whispered.

Another figure rode up next to him, clad in familiar armor. He held up a sword as he waved. "_Rohirrim!" _There was a thunder of hoof beats as a horde of armed riders came up behind him.

"Eomer!" Théoden said with triumph.

"_TO THE KING!"_ Eomer bellowed, his men taking up the cry as they charged down the hillside. The orcs had seen the reinforcements and quickly moved to prepare for them, lowering spears and letting out yells. They were ready to meet the charge head on when the last of the riders crossed the peak and the sun shone down in the valley like a bright wave of light. The orcs were blinded, throwing up hands to try to block it, spears dropping. Like a tidal wave, the Rohirrim smashed into the line, cutting down orcs, trampling over others.

"Thank God," Edmund gasped as he quickly smashed his sword into an orc's face, his heart swelling at Gandalf's return. Invigorated by their arrival, the defenders of the Helm attacked with new vigor, slashing down orcs left and right, limbs and heads flying about.

The sheer fury of the assault was enough to break the orcs' courage. Dropping swords and arms, they took off in a wild run away from the Helm, heading toward a forest of trees at the far end of the valley. "Hold!" Gandalf called out. "Do not approach the trees!"

Edmund frowned at Peter. "Maybe I took a blow to the head and didn't notice it but I don't recall seeing any trees before."

Just as Peter realized he was right, there was a roaring and the trees began to shake all about. A chorus of inhuman cries echoed along with the sound of flesh and bone being torn apart.

"What in…" Boromir started.

"The Ents," Gandalf explained. "Saruman killed many of their number to make his machines of war. Now, they are taking their revenge."

Théoden let out a loud laugh. "Victory! We have VICTORY!" A loud cheer went up as the soldiers reveled in still being alive. Peter and Edmund joined in but were muted as they saw the destruction around them. Peter slid his helmet off to wipe his forehead as he looked back at the horizon. Amid the rising sun, he could see a patch of red in the far distance and lightening erupting as if from a source of anger. And he realized this was not the end but only the beginning of a great war.

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**Whew, got this out faster than expected. I know, some aftermath to take care of along with the path of the Ringbearer as well.**


	17. Crawling Through the Wreckage

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Crawling Through the Wreckage

**Apologies for the delay, been dealing with a move followed by a PC crash that had to be fixed. Hopefully this helps make up for it.**

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Lucy was truly getting sick and tired of being carted about without so much as a by-your-leave but it seemed she had little choice in the matter. The rangers were leading them over green hills to a large river. Stretching far into the distance was a massive city, a white tower surrounded by more buildings, a regal structure that probably would have been quite the sight were it not for the dim mist of early morning. Her attention was caught more to the apparent destination they had.

Osgiliath, as she understood from the murmurings among the Rangers, had once been a grand city near Gondor. Time had taken its toll, however, as the area was now nothing but ruins, the dissolving ghost of what had once been. It reminded her of photos she'd seen of Rome, stone buildings and bridges all about, many half-crumbled in a bare semblance of what they had once been. Pieces seemed to crumble before their eyes, rocks falling into the wide river that ran through the city.

Soldiers were all about, some Rangers, others in the silver armor and pointed helmets of Gondor's troops. It was clear the area was under siege, arrows flying about, most aimless shooting, the orcs going more for effect than actual results. Occasionally, a large boulder fall be flung from a catapult and smash into the riverbed, spraying the defenders with water as they huddled about rocks and pieces of buildings for cover. Lucy could see the bodies of the fallen soldiers, tearing her gaze away quickly although the fear the corpses gave her remained.

She and the hobbits were led through the chaos, Gollum in the rear, dragged by a rope around his neck and screeching like mad. Lucy, Fordo and Sam were being jostled forward, their hands unbound but under guard. Frodo was obviously not having a good time with the situation. Ever step to the city had been spent with him begging for Faramir to let them go but the man was still intending to take them straight to Gondor.

As the group moved up, an elderly warrior stepped forward. "Madril," Faramir greeted him. "What is the word?"

"The orcs have taken the eastern shore," the man answered gravely. "Their numbers are too great. By nightfall, we shall be overrun."

As the men talked, Lucy saw Frodo slumping slightly, a hand to his chest. "Frodo?" she whispered with alarm.

"It's calling to Him," the hobbit whispered. "His eye is almost on me."

"Hold on, Mr. Frodo," Sam urged. "You'll be all right." Frodo was looking at him but he didn't seem to truly hear Sam or sense Lucy's comforting hand to his shoulder.

Faramir nodded to the trio. "Take them to my father. Tell him Faramir sends him a mighty gift. A weapon that will change our fortunes in this war." Madril seemed puzzled but nodded as the soldiers began to take the three away. Faramir turned to head off to the battle.

"Do you want to know what happened to Boromir?"

Faramir froze. He slowly turned to see Sam pulling away from his guard to glare at him with a harder expression than he usually had. "Do you want to know why your bother's not here? Why Frodo won't talk about him? He tried to take the Ring from Frodo! After swearing an oath to protect him. He tried to kill him!"

Faramir's face was stunned as he took in the words but Sam wasn't finished. "The Ring drove your brother mad!"

"And now you want to bring that madness into your home," Lucy added. "It's not right, Faramir. Look at him. Look at what it's done to him!" She motioned at Frodo, who appeared to have gone three shades of pale and sweaty to boot.

Faramir seemed torn now, as if truly realizing for the first time the danger. Above him, a boulder smashed into a tower, shattering it and sending stone pieces falling downward. At the same time, Frodo's eyes rolled upward and he spoke in muted voice. "They've come."

A loud inhuman shriek cut through the air as everyone looked up. "Nazgul!" Faramir shouted. Instantly, the soldiers broke away to run in all directions. Lucy felt herself pulled into a shadowed corner, looking up to see the lizard-like beast flying overhead with its robed rider. Faramir was with her, holding up a hand to keep her back. "Stay out of sight," he hissed.

Lucy pushed the hand back as she frantically looked about. "Frodo?" she called out. "Frodo!" She saw a figure headed up some stairs and broke away from Faramir's grasp. "Frodo!"

He didn't heed her words at all but stood at the center of a bridge. He seemed to stare out at the Nazgul as the fell beast flapped its wings, settling right before him. He was stretching out a hand, as if in offering when Sam rushed over to tackle him down. The two fell down a flight of steps, rolling about as Lucy ran up to them.

Frodo ended up on top, Sting drawn in his hand as he pointed the tip at Sam's throat with a snarl. Lucy grabbed at his back to try and pull him off. "It's me!" Sam protested. "Your Sam." His own eyes appeared teary. "Don't you know your Sam?"

Frodo stared before clarity returned to his eyes. The sword fell from his hands as he fell back, slumping against a wall. He shook, his eyes shut as if it could help him hide from the pain. "I can't do this," he choked out. "I can't do this."

"It's not that you can't do it," Lucy softly said. "You can. It's that you don't want to."

"I know she's right, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are." He turned to stare off at the battle-torn city around them as he softly spoke. "It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?"

Lucy felt a pang at his words. Without realizing it, Sam was describing the feelings of so many people in London, fearful over the war, still afraid of a German invasion into their home. It also reminded her of the first days in Narnia, that great conflict with the White Witch that appeared hopeless as well.

"But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow." Sam's voice seemed to grow in strength and brighten in tone. "Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something."

Frodo looked up at him. "What are we holding on to, Sam?"

Sam reached over to help him up to his feet. "That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for."

Lucy was struck by the sudden idea that Samwise Gamgee, if he wanted, had an incredible future in politics, to judge by his eloquence. In his corner, even Gollum seemed moved by the hobbit's strong words. Faramir was also impressed as he stepped forward to kneel before Frodo. "I think we at last understand one another, Frodo Baggins." He glanced about. "Come quickly." He began to lead them off to a nearby alcove.

"Where are we going?" Lucy asked.

"My father's law would make my life forfeit should I simply let you go," he explained. "But in the chaos here, it is quite easy for you four to sneak away without anyone being the wiser."

He led them through a tunnel that opened to a larger one. A dank smell came from it but was lessened by the wind from the other side. "This is the old sewer," Faramir explained. "It runs right under the river through to the edge of the city. You'll find cover in the woods there."

"Captain Farmir," Sam stated. "You've shown your quality, sir. The very highest."

Lucy smiled at the man. "I think despite whatever your father may say, you and Boromir are very much alike."

Faramir nodded in thanks before smiling to Sam. "This Shire must truly be a great realm, Master Gamgee, where gardeners are held in high honor." He looked to Frodo. "What road will you take once you reach the woods?"

Frodo nodded to Gollum. "He says there's a path near Minas Morgul that climbs up onto the mountains."

The smile instantly vanished from Faramir's face. "Cirith Ungol?" In a flash, he had wrapped a hand around Gollum's throat and shoved the creature against a pillar. "Is that its name?"

"No! Noooo!" Gollum choked as Faramir's grip tightened. "Yesssss."

Faramir looked to the trio, who were startled at his move. "They say a dark terror dwells in the passes above Minas Morgul. Many have gone there, none returned and tales of the sight of a shadowy monster are told. You cannot go that way."

"It isss the only way," Gollum gasped out, trying in vain to break Faramir's hold. ""Masssster sayssss we must go to Mordor so we mussssst try…."

Faramir's eyes narrowed as he leaned in, his voice a raspy whisper. "May death find you quickly if you bring them to harm." He let go and Gollum fell in a heap, scampering up to hide behind Frodo and snarl at the man.

"Go," Faramir said with a nod. "Go for the good of all mankind." He turned to head back the other way.

Lucy made a smile at Gollum. "It's all right, really. He was just trying to protect Frodo, help him like you are. So, no hard feelings, forgive and forget."

"No hard feelings," Gollum hissed as he scampered forward. "Nice Hobits and girl, let us be off."

It didn't take long for them to make their way through the sewer and to the woods on the other side, the battle far behind them. "I wonder if we'll ever be put into songs or tales," Sam said.

"What?" Frodo asked.

"I wonder if people will ever say 'let's hear about Frodo and the Ring. Yes, that's one of my favorite stories. Frodo was really courageous, wasn't he, dad?' 'Yes, my boy, the most famousest of hobbits and that's saying a lot.'"

Lucy smiled. "Just Frodo? What about Gandalf or Aragorn?"

"They'll be in there," Sam told her. "Oh and don't worry, we won't forget to leave you and your brothers and sister in. Queen Lucy, who helped Frodo in his quest, a girl with the courage of a dozen hobbits."

"You left out one of the chief characters, Sam," Frodo said. "Samwise the Brave. I want to hear more about Sam." He paused to look at his friend with a heartfelt expression. "Frodo wouldn't have gone far without his Sam."

Sam paused before shaking his head. "Now, Mr. Frodo, you shouldn't make fun. I was being serious."

"So was I," Frodo said, putting a hand to Sam's back as they headed on.

"Gollum?" Lucy called out as she headed a bit ahead. "Gollum, are you here?"

She heard him whispering as she came up, seeing him leaning on a tree. She couldn't make it out, something about a "her" of some sort. Frankly, she had given up trying to understand his clearly mad mind. "Gollum?"

He leapt up to face her, that goofy smile on his face. "Yes, yes, little girl! Gollum here, Gollum show the way!" He leapt up, waving his hands. "Come, master, come!"

Lucy shuffled her hair back as they followed their guide once more. She could see darkness in the skies above, red mixed with black and lightning flowing as if nature seemed enraged for some reason. She tried to block it out, block out the fear that she knew was coming the closer they came to Mordor.

That fear would be much greater if she could foresee the horror that rested just beyond the mountains before them.

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**A bit of a shorter chapter after Helm's Deep but for those thinking Lucy's just a tagalong on the Ring quest…think again as we continue.**


	18. Cleansing the Tower

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Cleansing the Tower

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The morning sun cut through the haze of fires about Helm's Deep. The soldiers were going through the grisly task of making their way through the battlefield to gather the dead. The bodies of elves and soldiers were carried off with as much gentleness as possible, placed at the far end and prepared for burial. The orcs were treated with far less respect, piled into large heaps that were set ablaze. The scent of burning flesh was thankfully carried off by the wind as the aftermath of the battle was clear.

Peter winced as Susan tightened the bandage at his shoulder where a glancing blow had struck him. "Easy," he hissed.

His sister shook her head. "Doesn't matter what age you are, you could never stay still for this sort of thing. And here I thought I was done playing nursemaid to you."

"But it comes so naturally to you," Edmund jested as he placed an orc blade down in a large pile. Gimli was nearby, sitting on the corpse of an orc with an axe buried in its skull, nonchalantly smoking a pipe. He looked up as Legolas approached them.

"Final tally," the elf announced as he brushed off his bow. "Forty-two."

"Forty-two?" Gimli nodded, sounding impressed. "That's not bad for a pointy-eared elfling prince."

Susan frowned as she tied off the bandage at Peter's shoulder. "I could have sworn you got more than that," she said to Legolas.

"In the interests of fair competition, I'm excluding ones I struck at long-range with my bow," Legolas explained. "Close, hand-to-hand only."

"Indeed," Gimli said with a smile as he leaned forward. "I myself am sitting pretty on forty-_three."_

Legolas stared at him for a moment before grabbing his bow, nocking an arrow and firing it at the orc Gimli was sitting upon. "Forty-three," he said with satisfaction.

Gimli glared at him. "It was already dead."

Legolas shrugged. "It was twitching."

"It was twitching," Gimli growled. "Because it had…my axe…embedded…in his nervous system!" With each word, he gave the handle of the axe a tug and the corpse's limbs made small jerky motions.

Susan shook her head as she rose up. "I can't believe this. All this death, all the men and elves who fell defending this place and you're concerned about some foolish game!" She seemed ready to say more but simply shut her lip and stalked off.

Both Legolas and Gimli appeared taken aback as Peter rose to his feet. "It's okay," he said. "She…never could take easily to battle and such. I know it's not your fault, you're…well, no offense meant but you're not humans. I know you see the world in a different way."

"We do feel the pain of this, Peter," Legolas was quick to state. "But if I allowed all the grief over my long life to come to the surface, it would overwhelm me."

Peter put a hand to his shoulder. "I know But for now, probably best not to mention it to Susan, make her think you took the competition more seriously than the battle." He turned to walk off, speaking over his shoulder. "Besides…I got forty-five."

Both the dwarf and the elf gawked at him. "You lie!" they said in unison.

Peter seemed insulted. "I'm a King of Narnia, we don't lie. I wasn't stunned by the explosion and I racked up quite a few on the causeway with Gimli and Aragorn." He let himself enjoy a small smirk as he walked off, leaving the two both sputtering as Edmund chuckled.

Peter saw Théoden clasping a hand to Eomer's shoulder. "Eomer, sister-son, glad am I to see you again," the king said.

"My heart is happy to see you hale and hearty once more, my Liege," Eomer bowed. "And give thanks to Gandalf for finding us and telling us of your need. I regret we could not arrive sooner."

"Better to save some than lose all," Theoden said. He looked to Gandalf, who stood nearby, staring in the distance. "My thanks to you as well, White Rider."

"We have little time for celebration or mourning," Gandalf said in a crisp voice. "We must make our way to Isengard at once. His army may be defeated but Saruman remains and as long as he lives at your doorstep, Rohan is in danger."

Theoden grimly nodded. "Aye. He shall pay for his crimes on my people. I shall gather a division at once."

Gandalf shook his head. "They would do little against Saruman's power. No, this is a matter for we wizards."

"I shall still see him," Theoden insisted. "I owe him much for the pain he has bestowed upon my people."

"I'm coming too," Peter announced. "I've been wanting to see this man for a while. Susan can help with the cleanup while Edmund can come with."

Gandalf nodded. "Come then. To Isengard and the final judgment of Saruman."

Peter shook his head, wondering just what it was that made people in this land so dramatic in their pronouncements.

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The morning had given way to afternoon as the procession of horses made their way through Fangorn Forest. Theoden was in the lead with Aragorn beside him. Behind them were Eomer, Gamling, Boromir, Legolas with Gimli on the horse with him, Peter and Edmund. Except for Gandalf, they were all nervous as they looked about the forest, remembering the fury the Ents had shown the orcs back at Helm's Deep.

"Do not worry, my friends," Gandalf announced. "Their anger has faded under their retribution. They will not trouble us."

That did little to soothe their feelings and they all felt a great relief when the forest finally ended. They trotted out and stopped to behold the sight of Isengard. The massive black tower with its pointed roof extended skyward with the stone wall a circle around it. But that was all that was still intact as the rest of the land was ravaged. Where had once been forests were now empty plains of stumps, cut down to feed the engines of war. But those engines had now been stilled.

In the distance, they could see what had once been a dam holding back a river but it appeared to have been torn apart. As such, the river had washed into the valley and the area around the tower was buried in several feet of water, branches and pieces of machinery sticking out of loose places.

As they came to the wall, they spotted two small figures lounging at the top, both smoking pipes. One rose and held out his arms as he called out in a broad voice marked with the sign of one who's had too much to drink. "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard! Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Perrigrin Took at your service!"

"You rascals!" Gimli bellowed. "You woolly-footed and pool-pated truants! A fine hunt you've led us on! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death and here you are feasting and idling and…smoking! Where did you come by this weed? Hammer and tongs, I am so torn between rage and joy, I might burst!"

"You speak for me, Gimli," Legolas noted. "Though I would sooner know how they came by the wine."

Edmund threw up his hands. "So while we've been handling an army, you two lounged around a forest and now set yourselves up for a feast?"

"We are sitting on the field of victory," Pippin said between puffs of his pipe. "Enjoying the fruits of our well-earned comforts. This salty pork is quite delicious."

"Salty pork?" Gimli asked, licking his lips, his rage evaporating.

Theoden chuckled. "It cannot be doubted that we witness the meeting of dear friends. I take it these are the hobbits you spoke of? I had heard tales of them although none mentioned their ability to sprout smoke from their mouths."

"It is an art we have practiced for not more than a few generations," Merry said. "It was Tobold Hornblower of Longbottom who first grew the true pipe-weed, in his gardens around…"

"1070," Pippin said as he swigged from his jug of wine.

"1070," Merry went on. "According to our reckoning. How he came by the plant, no one is quite sure but…"

"You do not know your danger, Theoden-King," Gandalf interrupted. "These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the small doings of their fathers, grandfathers, great-grandfathers and remote cousins to the ninth degree if you encourage them. No more of this foolery! Where in all this wonder is Treebeard?"

"He has taken up management of the place," Merry said, waving an arm off toward the tower. "There he should be, with the rest of the Ents. Saruman himself is inside his tower along with that pasty fellow, Grima something."

"Wormtongue?" Eomer scowled. "I should have known the worm would crawl back to his master."

"Let us see to him then," Gandalf said as he nudged the horses along. As they passed the two hobbits, Edmund peered at then and leaned in to Peter. "I know it sounds crazy but I swear these two look taller…"

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Despite Edmund's warnings, Peter was still taken aback at the sight of Treebeard. The Ent bowed his head to the others, who seemed even more thrown by the tree creature coming up to them. "Welcome, Gandalf," he boomed in that loud voice of his. "Glad I am to see you. Rock and stone we can handle but there's a wizard here than needs to be dealt with."

"I would think having escaped from the roof, you'd be thinking twice about going in by the door," Peter remarked as the procession of horses made their way through the water surrounding the tower. Merry and Pippin had joined the brothers on their mounts.

"I made the mistake of trusting Saruman last time," Gandalf said as the horses stopped. "Not again. Be careful about what you do and say- even in defeat, Saruman is still dangerous."

"Then lets just have his head and be done with it!" Gimli snapped.

"No," Gandalf said in a soft but forceful voice. "We need him alive. We need him to talk."

"Knowing what his voice can do, I suspect it will do more harm than good." Theoden grumbled.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called. A figure appeared at the top of the tower. Despite the distance, Edmund and Peter could still see a man who looked quite like Gandalf with white robes and a long beard and hair, leaning on a staff. But while Gandalf's face was kind most of the time, this wizard was dark and glowering, showing the dark power that had overwhelmed him.

"Like and yet unalike," Peter murmured under his breath.

"So once more, Gandalf Greyhame comes to Orthanc," the wizard said, his voice carrying down the long distance. "And with a rather unique party as well." His gaze swept them, focusing with great interest on Peter and Edmund. "Hmm…I see the mark of power upon you both, greater than one your ages should have. You are the travelers from a distant land I had heard murmurs of." A dark smile came to his lips. "A shame ours paths had not crossed before. You would have been worth speaking to in person."

"I'm not known for my counsel with murdering tyrants," Peter called up.

"Tyrant?" Saruman sniffed. "I merely do what must be done to help this land survive, child. Sauron would have it all razed to the ground and nothing left. I would at least allow some life to endure."

"As slaves to the Dark Lord?" Boromir snapped. "That is no life at all."

"Will you come down, Saruman?" Gandalf asked.

"Come down?" Saruman sniffed. "Does an unarmed man come down to speak to robbers? I can hear you well enough here, Gandalf although I do not trust you."

"If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is," Edmund murmured.

Saurman ignored him as he focused on Theoden. "You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards." His voice seemed more calming, almost friendly. "Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Peter and Edmund could feel the magic coming off the wizard. For Edmund, it was a more than chilling reminder of the speeches of the White Witch and how she made herself seem much more friendly.

"We shall have peace." Everyone looked at Théoden with astonishment. The king's face was set as his voice grew in anger and volume. "We shall have peace, when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there!" Saruman looked taken aback as Theoden bellowed on. "We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows…we shall have peace."

Peter and Edmund smiled at how Saruman scowled at the words. "Gibbets and crows!" he hissed. "Dotard!" He then turned to face Gandalf. "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? No, Let me guess. The Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-Dur itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and rods of the five wizards!"

Edmund rolled his eyes at Peter. "I never thought I would say this about anyone but this man is actually more in love with his own voice than Rabadash."

Gandalf was quite calm as he gazed up. "Your treachery has cost many lives," he said. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman! You were deep in the enemies counsel."

Peter stared at him in astonishment. "Please tell me we did not come all this way to make a deal with this madman."

"I'm inclined to agree," Aragorn said.

Saruman's lips twisted in a mocking smile. "So much like Gandalf the Gray, so very condescending and so very kind. So you have come for information. I have some for you."

"And here comes the ridicule," Edmund sighed

Reaching a hand into his robe, Saruman whipped out a black sphere with a glowing red light in the middle of it. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth," he said, looking into the ball. "Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it."

"The great wizard consults a crystal ball?" Peter asked dubiously.

"It is a Palantir," Gandalf said in a grave voice. "A seeing-stone. The Dark Lord uses them as well to see the present and future."

"Even now, he presses his advantage," Saruman continued. "His attack will come soon." His grin was one of pure twisted evil. "You are all going to die."

"Does this man never shut up?" Edmund muttered.

"But you know this, don't you Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor!" He waved at Aragorn, who gazed back with a neutral expression. "This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King!" His eyes landed on Boromir and his sneer grew wider. "Your father is weaker than you, son of the Steward. His pride has made him so malleable for my plans and he will never let go of the small title he's long carried. He will fall. As shall you all."

"Almost a shame the White Witch is dead," Peter remarked off-handedly to Edmund. "The two of them would get along just wonderfully." He looked off Edmund's glare while Saruman's gaze fell to them.

"I sense anger in you, young one," he said in a calmer tone still laced with menace. "Can it be you feel not up to the task given to you? That you are no longer worthy of respect of those who trust you?" The wicked glint shone in his eyes. "You are a child in body and mind, no matter your spirit. You shall fail them, I can see it."

"And Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him- those he professes to love." Saruman sneered down. "Tell me, Gandalf, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path you set him on can only lead to death!" Saruman snarled.

"I've heard enough!" Gimli barked. "Shoot him, Legolas! Stick an arrow through his head!"

"If it stops him talking, I'm all for it," Edmund added and Legolas obligingly reached for an arrow.

"No!" Gandalf said sharply, and Legolas stopped. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"I still say hanging him's not a bad idea," Edmund muttered.

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" With a snarl, Saruman cast a jet of flame from his staff at Gandalf. The fire engulfed the wizard in a ball of flame, causing the horses to rear back, their riders struggling for control. The fire died down to reveal Gandalf unharmed but his expression severe.

"Saruman!" he yelled, his voice a bit raspy. "Your staff is broken." The staff in Saruman's hand exploded before their very eyes, and the White Wizard was enraged.

"Let's see how arrogant he is now," Peter said with satisfaction as he saw a pallid looking man coming up behind the wizard. Theoden recognized him instantly but instead of the anger one would expect, his face was full of sympathy.

"Grima," he called. "You need not follow him."

"What are you doing?" Peter demanded. "This man…"

"Was once a trusted advisor before Saruman's claws sunk into him," Theoden answered. He turned back, his expression almost pleading. "Grima, you were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down!"

The words seemed to have an affect on Grima, who seemed amazed that Theoden was willing to forgive him after all he'd done. Saruman saw it too and gave out a sour laugh. "A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?" He spat down at Theoden. "The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Theoden was clearly struck by the words but swallowed his wounded pride, keeping his face calm, his voice gentle. "Grima…Come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman snapped. "He will never be free!"

"No," Grima spoke, finding amazing strength within himself. Saruman whirled to face him.

"Get down, worm!" he snapped, smacking the back of his hand at Grima's face. His servant let out a cry of pain as he fell to the tower surface.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called again, desperation entering his voice. "You were deep in the enemies counsel; Tell us what you know!" Behind Saruman, no one saw Grima unsheathing a knife from under his coat.

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided!" Saruman declared. "I will not be held prisoner here!" He was so intent at yelling at those beneath him that he did not sense until too late the movement behind him. Grima came up behind Saruman, grabbed him, and stabbed him hard in the back, several times over, yelling in agony as he unleashed his fury on the twisted wizard.

In a flash, Legolas strung an arrow and fired. It hit Grima in the stomach. He fell over, gasping on the floor for a few moments before going still. Saruman stood in place, his expression one of pure shock, less of pain and more of the idea that the cowardly Grima had been the one to strike the fatal blow upon one of the most powerful wizards alive. As the stunned group watched, Saruman turned and fell backwards off Orthanc. His body twisted about as he plummeted down the length of the tower…

And with a sickening crunch, his body landed right on the pike of a spiked wheel at the tower's base.

"So much for terms of surrender," Peter noted with a voice more dry than he felt. The hobbits cringed while the other men all winced. Gandalf stared with sadness at the man he'd once called friend. He sobered as he turned to Theoden.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free," he said urgently. "The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he'll strike next."

The wheel began to turn into the water, taking Saruman's impaled body with it.

Edmund swallowed, trying to keep from retching. Treebeard appeared satisfied. "The filth of Saruman…" he wheezed in his slow, raspy voice. "…Is washing away. Trees… will come back to… live here. Young trees… Wild trees…"

Suddenly, Pippin saw something glinting in the water. He carefully climbed off of Aragorn's horse towards it.

"Pippin!" Aragorn called. Pippin reached into the water and carefully pulled out the Palantir. Gandalf rode up behind him.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard puffed.

"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said in a commanding voice, making Pippin wince slightly. It didn't take long to remind him that Gandalf still had authority over him. "I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now." He leaned off Shadowfax a bit as Pippin handed the Palantir up to him. Gandalf quickly wrapped it in his robes.

Peter gazed at the form under the water and shook his head. "You'd think this would bring some satisfaction."

"I think the day you feel truly satisfied and happy at someone's death is a very bad day," Edmund pointed out. Peter gave him a small smile as they turned their horses around. Peter watched the Ents deal with the flooded area as he looked to Gandalf. "So are things better now?"

Gandalf shook his head. "Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retaliation swift. The battle is over but the war is only beginning."

Peter gazed at him. "No one asks you rhetorical questions much, do they?"

"No, they do not."

Edmund saw Boromir sober as they rode and spoke softly. "He was wrong. You're not a weak man."

"Perhaps," Boromir allowed. "But I fear his assessment of my father may have been more true than he knew."

Edmund glanced about the ruined area for a long moment. "It's only going to get worse, isn't it?" he softly asked.

Boromir was not one for rhetorical questions. His silence was all the answer needed as they left the ruins of Orthanac behind.

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**Wow, ended up being longer than I expected for a short scene but hopefully worked out well.**


	19. Celebrations and Sightings

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Celebration and Sightings

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The ride back to Edoras was a long one for all involved. It was a bit slower due to the carts pulling along the dead for burial at their homes. The sight of the Golden Hall filled the people with heart as they made their way back. There were tears and sadness of those who had lost fathers, husbands, brothers and sons in the battle. But there were still many survivors who were able to help those who needed comfort and Eomer's troops gave them a feeling of extra protection.

It took time to gather as many as were willing to come into the Hall. Tables filled the usually empty space, with drinks and meals laid out for everyone. Théoden stood at his throne in his red suit, gazing out with a strong expression as Eowyn brought him a goblet. He held it up before him as he spoke out to the rows of soldiers before him at tables. They all rose and held up their own goblets in response.

"Tonight," the king announced. "We remember those who gave their blood to defend this country." He held his goblet higher. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" the soldiers cried out as they then drank.

At their table, Susan sniffed at the drink. "Not so sure just how the dead can be called victorious," she muttered.

"Just go with it, Su," Edmund said as he raised the mug to his lips.

Susan pushed it away from him. "Exactly what makes you think you're having any ale?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Technically, I'm old enough to drink."

"Technically, you still have a body incapable of holding it," she returned. "That goes for you too, Peter."

"Yes, mother," the two boys said in unison, causing Susan to give an eye roll of her own.

The somber mood soon gave way to a more festive one. It was clear Eomer and his men were grateful to be back with their exile lifted. They were soon each other with stories, the coming liquor opening them up more. Several gathered around to watch Gimli and Legolas engage in a drinking contest (Gimli showing more effects than the elf) while others moved to the table with Merry and Pippin. The two hobbits were in fine form, obviously loving the attention as they threw out stories from the Shire mixed with their adventures and old jokes between constant pints. It was sometimes hard to hear them as they kept talking over each other with their various observations.

Peter chewed on a piece of bread as he walked about, noting Eowyn offering Aragorn a cup. Théoden was nearby watching them with interest as Peter came up to him. "With respect," Peter began. "I hope your niece doesn't have romantic plans for him."

Théoden frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've spoken to him," Peter said. "He's not a man who opens up but I already know his heart belongs to another."

Théoden took that in and sighed. "I should have known. A man as honorable as he would have found one to share his life with."

"You are just as honorable a man," Peter quickly pointed out.

Theoden shook his head. "It was not Theoden who won the day at Helm's Deep." He tried to shrug it off and forced a smile. "Don't listen to me. You are young and this day is for you."

He turned to go only to be stopped by Peter's hand. "Sire," he said in a warm tone. "I know how you feel. That great battle with the White Witch I told you of…I wasn't the one who ultimately defeated her. But when you come to it, who gets the honor of victory is really a silly thing. What matters is that enough of your people were saved."

"When it comes to the death of subjects," Theoden said. "We may have different definitions of 'enough.'" He paused before nodding. "But I see your point. And you may be right." He smiled, this time with more feeling. "You are truly wise beyond your years, my young friend."

"Tell that to my teachers," Peter joked as the two walked along.

Edmund found himself moving to where Aragorn and Gandalf were watching Merry and Pippin dance and sing a song of the Green Dragon, which sounded like some sort of pub near the Shire. Gandalf was actually smiling and clapping along but Aragorn wasn't as happy. "No word from Frodo?" he softly asked.

"No word," Gandalf replied, still smiling. "Nothing."

"We have time," Aragorn said. "Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor."

"If he's still alive," Edmund noted with a grave voice. "If Lucy's still alive."

Aragorn smiled at him. "What does your heart tell you?"

Edmund thought about it and nodded. "They're still alive."

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "They are."

Edmund sighed. "But for how long?"

"That I cannot say," Gandalf told him. "But we must hope for the best as all our fates rest upon their small shoulders."

"That's not exactly new for Lucy," Edmund noted.

"It will not stop Sauron from moving," Aragorn pointed out. "How can we be sure he will not attack Rohan again?"

"He is more cunning than that," Gandalf said, his smile still in place although his eyes were serious. "His next strike will come soon but at a place unprepared for it. We must be vigil and ready but allow him to make the first move."

Edmund nodded in understanding. "It's easier to form the trap when the opposing force moves his pieces first."

Gandalf gave him an appraising look. "So you have chess in your world as well."

"And Narnia," Edmund related. "I guess it's a game that manages to transcend worlds."

"It is a battle of wits with great stakes, my young friend," Gandalf said, his smile fading at last. "That is something every world must have."

At one end, Susan sipped at a cup of tea she'd managed to get made as Boromir drank from his mug. Susan looked to him with a frown. "What's wrong?"

Boromir put his mug down. "I worry for my city. My people. What happened at Helm's Deep…I can't help but imagine it happening to Gondor."

"Aren't your people well defended?"

"That's not an issue." Boromir sat back. "My father keeps the city tightly under wraps to the point of ignoring other lands. His scouts don't stray far from our borders and many of our soldiers have not seen true war in other lands." He rubbed at his beard. "If a force of orcs were to march, I fear for my people."

Susan brushed a lock of hair back. ""I've heard this before. On Narnia and in London. Fear is a natural response, Boromir." She leaned forward to put a hand on his, getting him to look at her. "You're the only person from Gondor I've met. But if you're an example of the spirit and strength they have, then I know they won't fall."

Boromir bowed his head. "Thank you…your majesty."

Susan smiled at him. "And you won't fight alone. You'll have us with you and with the experience and wisdom of an elf and a dwarf…"

Her words were cut off as two men carried an unconscious Gimli off between them, the dwarf reeking of alcohol with stains all over his beard and clothes. Legolas followed, his eyes fixed on his hand as he paced with a faraway look in his eyes.

Boromir looked to Susan, who simply buried her head in her tea with flushed cheeks.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Given all the drinking and carousing, the late night was surprisingly quiet. Too quiet for Peter's tastes as he found himself unable to sleep. He told himself it was just nerves and worries about the battle. In truth, he still remembered the way Saruman had dismissed him with that cold gaze and colder words, words that still echoed in his mind. It reminded Peter too much of a pain he'd long hidden in himself, one he knew wasn't right but it still lingered.

It had been years (relatively speaking) but it still nagged at Peter that he had not been the one to finally end the White Witch. He knew he shouldn't feel that way. It had been Aslan's task to deal with her, it was fated that way, Peter knew that. But at the same time, he had been the one fighting with her, the one who led that massive battle and had to deal with Edmund's injury. So it still rankled him he hadn't been the one to strike the final blow. In a way, he could sympathize there with Theoden and his feelings on Helm's Deep. He didn't like it, but it was how he felt.

He paced about, seeing a dark figure standing very still a few feet away. He frowned as he headed over, relaxing as he realized it was Legolas wearing a cloak with the hood up. The elf gave no notice of him, staring outward. "The stars are veiled," he said in a quiet but serious voice.

Peter came up to him gazing about. He felt a presence and turned to see Aragorn also looking up as he smoked on his pipe. "Something stirs in the East," the elf continued. "A sleepless malice."

"Can you be a tad more specific?" Peter couldn't help asking.

Legolas looked to him, his face grave. "The Eye of the Enemy is moving."

"I suppose not," Peter murmured to himself. He saw Aragorn's glare and blanched. "Sorry, late night."

"The night is falling on all of Middle Earth," Legolas noted.

Before Peter could reply to that, a loud screaming was heard inside. Instantly, all three men took off running toward the sound. They burst into one of the side rooms to see Merry shaking at Pippin. The young hobbit held the Palantir in his hands, his eyes glued to the shimmering stone with a look of utter terror. "Help him!" Merry cried out. "Someone help him!"

Aragorn leapt forward to grab the Palantir away. One glance and he fell to his knees, its power effecting him. Legolas grabbed him while Peter grabbed at the ball, doing his best to pry it away without gazing directly at it. The elf and the boy pulled together, Peter stumbling back as the crystal fell from his hands. It rolled on the ground toward Gandalf, who had risen from his bed at the outcry. He quickly grabbed a cloth and put it over the Palantir.

Gandalf whirled about, his face flushed with anger. "Fool of a Took…" he began but his rant was cut short when he saw Pippin lying on the ground, his eyes open but vacant. The wizard moved quickly, pushing Merry aside to take Pippin's hand in his own, pressing his other palm to the hobbit's forehead. He whispered softly as Pippin blinked. "Look at me," the wizard said in a warm tone.

"Gandalf…" the hobbit gasped. "I'm…sorry…"

"Look at me!" Gandalf instructed. "What did you see?" Pippin tried to close his eyes but Gandalf pulled at him. "What did you see?"

"A…a tree…" Pippin stammered, his body shaking, eyes teary from the ordeal. "There was a…a white tree…in a courtyard of stone…It was dead." He hissed as if seeing the image now. "The city was burning."

"Minas Tirith." Everyone turned to see Boromir in the doorway, his face ashen as he came in. "The White Tree of the Kings…"

"Is that what you saw?" Gandalf said to Pippin. "What did you see?"

The hobbit swallowed. "I…I saw…I saw HIM."

No one needed to ask who he was referring to as Pippin went on. ""I could hear his voice in my head."

"And what did you tell him?" Gandalf pressed. He shook Pippin. "Speak!"

Pippin stammered. "He….asked my name…I didn't….didn't answer." He closed his eyes tightly. "He…hurt me…"

"The Ring…" Gandalf hissed, his face tight with alarm. "What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?!"

Pippin's terrified eyes answered him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Morning light was entering the windows of the main hall as Gandalf paced about. The children had gathered about along with Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and Boromir. Theoden was standing by his throne watching them as Gandalf spoke.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," the wizard spoke. "A fool…" He nodded. "But an honest fool he remains."

Pippin was sitting at a table at the far end with Merry, looking remorseful as he scratched at the table. "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring," Gandalf said. A wave of relaxation went out at that as Gandalf continued. "We have been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the Palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing: He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth."

Aragorn stiffened at that as Gandalf continued. "Men are not as weak as He supposed; there is courage still. Strength enough perhaps to challenge Him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner."

Peter and Edmund nodded, both understanding fully how a united front could be vital for survival. Gandalf was serious as he spoke, his voice grave. "He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of Men."

Boromir sucked in a breath at that. "We have to prepare them. We have to prepare everyone."

Gandalf nodded. "If the Beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me…" Theoden began, his face pensive. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?"

Everyone stared at him in varying degrees of shock and dismay. Boromir's expression was harder than the others as he moved toward Theoden. To his credit, the king returned his gaze without backing down. "What do we owe Gondor?"

"You owe them defending you from Mordor for years!" Boromir snapped. "You owe it to your fellow men to defend them from the horror that is coming!"

"As they defended us?" Theoden snapped.

"I will go," Aragorn declared, trying to defuse the obvious tension.

"No," Gandalf said.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn said.

"They will be," Gandalf said.

Boromir nodded. "Yes. By me."

Gandalf frowned at him. "Boromir…"

The man held up a hand. "Gandalf, I admire and respect you above all other men. But this is my home, these are my people. I will not abandon them in their darkest hour, no matter what else is happening. I am going."

Gandalf let out a sigh. "I know, Boromir. I will not stop you. I will be going as well." He turned, his eyes falling on a nervous Pippin. "And I will not be going alone."

"Not just you," Edmund said, rising to his feet. "I'll come."

Peter and Susan both started in surprise. "Edmund," Susan began.

He shook his head at her. ""Another person can help, Su. We've got enough command here to spare me for a bit." He smiled at Boromir. "Besides, he promised me a tour of his home. I suppose it's time to take him up on it."

Susan frowned. "Edmund…"

"Leave it be, Susan," Peter said. "You know how he gets at times like this."

Gandalf moved to Aragorn, his voice dropping. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river and look to the Black ships."

"And he's back to the riddles," Susan couldn't help noting.

Gandalf nodded to the others. "Come. We must make haste to Minas Tirith with all possible speed." He grabbed at his staff as he began to walk for the doorway, making a motion for the others to follow him.

Peter moved to Edmund. "You'll be careful, right?"

Edmund smiled, putting a hand to his brother's arm. "You know me."

"That's what worries me," Peter said with a small smile. Edmund moved to give his sister a hug. "You don't come back alive, I'm not going back home," she whispered in his ear, doing her best not to cry. Edmund did his best to follow her example as he tried to be strong.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst!" Gandalf scoffed as the group quickly moved toward the stables where their horses were waiting. Hurry! Hurry!"

Edmund adjusted the small pack on his back that contained supplies while Boromir moved ahead to get their horses ready. Pippin took up the rear, as inquisitive as ever. "Where are we going?"

"Why did you look?" Merry grumbled at him. "Why do you always have to look?"

Pippin shrugged. "I don't know. I can't help it!"

"You never can," Merry muttered.

"I'm sorry, all right?" Pippin said as Merry turned to him. "I won't do it again."

Edmund and Merry exchanged a look as they realized Pippin wasn't grasping the full gravity of the situation. Merry moved in, his face intense as he gazed at his friend. "Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the Ring!"

Pippin frowned, still not getting it and Merry sighed. "He's going to be looking for you, Pip," he hissed. "They have to get you out of here."

Pippin swallowed as it finally sunk in. "And…and you're coming with me?" Merry turned away to walk toward the barn. "Merry?"

Edmund pulled him along as they entered the barn. Boromir helped Edmund onto one of the horses. He then moved to help Pippin up onto Shadowfax with Gandalf already on it. "How far will it be?" Edmund asked.

"Three days ride as the Nazgul flies," Gandalf answered. "And you better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."

Merry stepped forward to put a small pack into Pippin's hand. "Here. Something for the road."

Pippin opened the pack and frowned. "Last of the long bottom leaf."

"I know you've run out," Merry said. "You smoke too much, Pip."

Pippin frowned. "B…But we'll see each other soon…." He stared at his friend. "Won't we?"

Merry glanced at Gandalf, who looked down. He then looked toward Edmund, the younger man giving him a slow nod, indicating he should say something, anything, to try and help his friend's nerves. Merry moved in, clasping his hand into Pippin's. "We _will_ see the Shire again," he whispered in a voice of raw emotion. Pippin bit his lip to keep from crying as Merry stepped back.

With a cry, Gandalf kicked his heels and Shadowfax flew out of the stable. Edmund and Boromir set their own horses off to follow. Merry watched them go and then raced toward a watchtower. He climbed up it to find Peter already there, staring out at the departing trio. He glanced at Merry as the hobbit moved next to him, leaning on the tower's edge as he stared out.

"He was always following me," Merry intoned. " Everywhere I went, since before we were twigs. I would get him in the worst sort of trouble But I was always there to get him out of it." The small smile he had faded as he saw the small dots fading out of sight. "But now he's gone. Just like Frodo and Sam.

Peter put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "One thing I have learned about Hobbits. There are most hardy folk."

"Foolhardy maybe," Merry managed to smile. "He's a Took, after all."

Peter smiled at him. "He's in good company with Edmund then. He was always the more level-headed of us. Tell anyone I said that and I'll deny it."

"Right." Merry gazed out at the horizon. "I almost thought it was over. I thought Helm's Deep was the worst of it."

Peter sighed. "These are the times that try men's souls, to quote a poet."

"He say anything about hobbits?"

Peter didn't answer but just patted the small man's shoulder as they gazed at their departing friends with silent prayers.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Sorry it took a while to update this, hopefully not as long before next chapter. **


	20. Partings in the Shadows

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Partings in the Shadows

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Our narrative returns to the journey of Lucy, Frodo, Sam and Gollum. Much of it continued along horrible terrain with more of the ugly rocks and lifeless grass. They did come across the intriguing sight of what looked to be the statue of a king of a long-ago age, flowers set like a crown in his head. Frodo seemed cheered by the sight, even considering it an omen of Aragorn's possible return to the throne.

It was a rare bright spot in the long journey as the mood of the company seemed to darken the closer they came to Mordor. The skies seemed to darken as well, the air becoming thicker as the terrain became harder. Once again, Lucy felt her attempts to keep spirits rising falling on deaf ears.

She was chewing on a piece of Lembas bread as they took a break from the long march. Gollum was at a nearby pool, muttering to himself as usual. Sam was going through their bags to check their supplies but it was Frodo that drew Lucy's attention as usual. The hobbit lay on his side, stroking the ring in his palm, his expression far off. It was the same look he'd had since they had begun this journey and it was worrying Lucy even more.

Sam sighed as he chewed on a piece of bread and looked about the dark sky. "Hard to tell if it's day or night round these parts," he noted. "For all we know, it could be tea time." He shrugged. "In decent places, where they still serve tea."

"We're not going to decent places," Gollum hissed the obvious.

Lucy brushed at her hair, wincing as she felt its ragged tangles. She couldn't remember the last time she'd bathed and knew she had to be a horrible sight. But cleanliness was the least of her concerns at the moment. The hope she'd felt when they'd left Faramir was fading, replaced by the fear of what their quest was doing to Frodo.

It was probably not the best time then for Sam to suddenly tackle Gollum to the ground and start to punch the creature.

Lucy yelped as she raced over to grab at him and Frodo soon leapt into the fray as well. Gollum was howling in agony and terror as Sam was snarling at him. "You dirty rotter! You miserable filth!"

"Sam!" Lucy cried out as she pulled at his arm. "Sam, you're going to kill him!"

"I know!" He kept snarling even as Lucy and Frodo finally pulled him off. Gollum whimpered and covered his eyes in agony and pain. "Huuuurt usssss!" He howled. "Why nassssty hobbit hurt ussssss?"

"I heard it from his own mouth!" Sam spat. "He means to murder us!!! "Never!" Gollum whimpered. "Sméagol wouldn't hurt a fly!" He pressed a hand to his head and took it away, screaming more as he saw blood on it. His face darkened as he pointed a reddish finger toward Sam. "He's a horrid, fat hobbit who hates Sméagol and who makes up nasty lies!"

"You miserable little maggot! I'll stove your head in!" Sam lunged at Gollum but Lucy and Frodo pulled him back.

"Sam, calm down!" Lucy yelled.

"Call me a liar! You're the liar!" Gollum screeched as he scampered behind a tree.

"Sam!" Frodo pulled him back and spun him around. "Don't! He runs off, we're lost!"

"I don't care!" Sam pulled away and shook his head. "I can't do it, Mr. Frodo! I won't wait around for him to kill us!"

"I'm not sending him away!"

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You don't see it, do you?" He dropped his voice to a hiss. "He's a villain, Mr. Frodo."

"We need a guide," Frodo insisted. "I need you, Sam. I need you on my side."

Sam sighed. "I am on your side, Mr. Frodo. I always have been. More than he is."

"I know, Sam," Frodo sighed. "I know. I need you to trust me. Please."

Sam bowed his head, knowing he couldn't argue with his old friend when he was so set in his ways. Frodo turned to offer a hand to the creature nearby. "Come, Sméagol."

Gollum crawled over, pausing to snarl at Sam before following. Lucy brushed back her hair as she came to him and spoke softly. "He's getting worse, isn't he?"

Sam nodded to her. "He won't see the danger that creature is leading us into. That damn ring is clouding everything. It's all Gollum wants and Mr. Frodo can't realize that."

"If only he could let it go, just for a bit," Lucy sighed. "Maybe he'd see it so much clearer."

"He won't," Sam said. "He's bound to it, Lucy, too much to let it go now." He took a deep breath. "We can only hope he still has the sense to do what has to be done when we reach that mountain."

Lucy sighed herself as they began to follow their friend through the dark landscape.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Night had taken over as the four found their way to a deep valley in the area. Lucy was pleasantly surprised to see a road cutting through the rock, one that showed signs of having recently been traveled. The further they went, the more the heaviness on her spirit weighed and she actually felt her body getting heavier under the weight of it all.

Gollum suddenly hunched down (well, more than usual) and motioned for them to go to the side as they approached a corner. Confused, the trio did so, making their way carefully around and stopping as they took in the sight before them. It was a massive city surrounded by a wall that reached nearly fifty feet in height. The towers reached even higher with one in particular seeming to point right at the sky like a massive spear. The entire area was bathed in a greenish glow and was reflected in the rocks around them.

"The Dead City," Gollum hissed and Lucy had to admit it was a fitting name. "Very nasty place. Full of…enemies." He climbed onto the road and began to dash as best he could toward the other side of the valley. "Quick! Quick!" he called out. "They will see!"

Frodo, Sam and Lucy immediately began following him. Lucy shuddered as she saw the two grotesque statues standing at either side of the entrance to the gates. It gave her a chilling reminder of the garden of the White Witch with one specific difference: Here, she truly felt the eyes of the creatures were alive and watching her.

"Come away!" Gollum hissed waving them over. Frodo had hesitated as he stared at the statues before Sam pulled him back. At the bottom of the cliff, Gollum sat on a rock and pointed upward. "Look! We have found it, the way into Mordor. The secret stair."

Lucy craned her neck back as she gazed up at the mountain rising high above her. A thin set of stones loosely resembling stairs carved up its side with the odd cliff protruding outward but otherwise nearly sheer. Lucy swallowed deeply as she took in the newest obstacle in their path and wished once more she was in Narnia.

Gollum was moving toward the stair, starting to climb upward. Frodo had stopped and was staring back at the city behind them. Slowly, he began walking toward, his eyes fixed with that blank and glazed look that had come over his eyes far too often as of late. He was clutching the ring around his neck, whispering as if answering a voice only he could hear.

"Frodo!" Lucy called out. Sam and Gollum saw him heading over and both yelled out. Forgetting their own differences, they raced forward to join Lucy in grabbing Frodo and trying to drag him back.

"It's calling me," Frodo said in a flat voice as he tried to walk onto the bridge.

"Don't lissssten!" Gollum shrieked at him. "Don't! Not that way!"

"For once, the little troll is right, Mr. Frodo!" Sam yelled as he pulled his friend back. "Come on, stop fighting me!"

Frodo was still drawn to the city when a loud rumbling went out. All four froze in place, staring with fearful eyes at the source of the sound. The greenish glow grew larger as a tower suddenly shone and spat a tunnel of light upward toward the sky. It was like a massive spotlight cutting through the sky, visible for miles in any direction. It wasn't just light as Lucy could feel the evil energy pouring out, the earth shaking under its power.

Frodo had fallen back, Lucy, Sam and Gollum pulling him back to the side of the road as they stared at the light column. Another shockwave shook the entire area as a loud booming sound echoed. The column of light blasted upward with even more strength, shrieking like the cry of a banshee as it shone through the night, blue-green light washing around.

"Hide!" Gollum hissed at them. "Hide!" Frodo clutched the ring as they dragged him away, still staring at the glowing column. He winced, clutching a hand to the shoulder as the Nazgul wound throbbed harder than ever. A scream cut through the night, an inhuman howl that caused all four to grab their ears and yell in pain. Frodo was hit harder, his breath labored as his breaths came quicker. "It hurts…" he moaned. "I can feel his blade."

Sam clutched at him as the gates of Minas Morgul opened with a loud clattering of chains and the creaking of ancient steel doors. A sound came like the rumble of thunder as an army of orcs began to march outward. They were all armed, armored and ready for war with massive towers, wagons and other machines of war wheeled forward. The dark banners of Mordor filled the columns as they marched along, their faces showing a bloodthirsty eagerness for war.

A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see one those Fell Beasts flying overhead. Astride it was the familiar figure of a Nazgul, only this one seemed more fearsome, a large pointed helmet atop its cloak as it scanned the army below him.

"Come away," Gollum hissed. "Come! We climb! We climb!" He began to scurry up the hillside with the others behind him, trying to ignore the marching wave of evil below them.

Lucy found it more than a bit disconcerting when they had been climbing for the better part of an hour and the wave of orcs marching across the bridge showed no sign of ending anytime soon. She tried to ignore it as she kept climbing, her cloak billowing in the cold wind. She was right behind Gollum and glanced back to see Frodo and Sam struggling, their bare feet having difficulty with the stone grooving. Gollum was crawling onto a ledge, offering a thin hand to Lucy. She took it, fighting back her revulsion as she joined with him. Gollum turned back as Frodo began to climb to the ledge.

"Careful, master, careful!" Gollum called out. "Very far to fall!"

"I don't think they need the obvious belabored," Lucy snapped at him.

Frodo gasped as he crawled onto the landing, gasping for breath. "Come, Master," Gollum cooed, reaching a hand to help him. As Frodo crawled up, the ring fell out of his shirt, gleaming in the light. Gollum's eyes widened and lit up as he reached. "Come to Sméagol," he hissed in a greedy tone.

He reached for the ring and Lucy wanted to knock her hand away but she too was watching it and could hear that strange siren call of it. She watched as Gollum's thin fingers reached for the ring, ready to grab it when Sam climbed up behind Frodo and let out a yell. "Back away, creep!"

Gollum yanked his hand back as Sam got up, a hand at his short sword. "Leave him be!" he yelled. "Get back! Don't you touch him!"

Gollum pulled back as Lucy grabbed Frodo to pull him up, fighting the urge to stare at the ring. Gollum was backing into a corner, sniffling. "Why does the fat hobbit hate poor Sméagol?" he moaned. "Sam," Lucy said, moving to him. "Relax…we need a break here anyway, get some food and some rest." She sat back, wincing as she rubbed her arms, trying to work out the aches. She saw Gollum leaning to whisper to Frodo, the other man clutching the ring. "There they go again," Sam muttered. "No good will come of Frodo listening to that freak, you mark me."

Lucy frowned in agreement as she watched them. She could see Gollum stealing a look back at Sam and Frodo following with an odd look of suspicion. It created a new flicker of doubt in Lucy's spirit but also a secret determination as the choice she'd been denying herself became clear.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

They had managed another set of stairs before resting at another landing, this time a longer rest. Frodo and Sam were sleeping but Lucy found herself unable to do so. Part of that was the fear, partly the cold but more because of what she had decided to do. She watched Gollum as he began to crawl toward their bag of supplies and rummage through it to take out a loaf of Lembas bread. The creature had an evil smile on his face as he began to peel at the bread's edge..

A hand grasped his shoulder to pull him back. Gollum opened his mouth but Lucy quickly slapped a hand over it as she pushed him to the ground. "Don't make a sound," she hissed. "Just listen." Her dagger was in her hand and pressed at his throat as she put on her best stern expression.

Gollum squirmed but Lucy held him back. "I know you want the ring," she hissed. "And I know Frodo is so obsessed with destroying it, he'll ignore that. It's eating him alive, killing his spirit and you're pushing it along."

Gollum tried to shake his head but Lucy pressed her hand harder. "He's a better person than that. He doesn't deserve that." She took a deep breath. "So you're my guide now."

Gollum stared at her in confusion. Lucy held a finger to her lips to urge him to keep quiet as she carefully pulled away. She crawled to Frodo, who lay on his side and slowly slid her hand forward. He seemed to stir and she froze but his eyes remained shut as he lay back, his palm lying open. Carefully, Lucy reached to take the chain in her fingers and slowly lifted it up. Once more, Frodo seemed to stir but Lucy kept pulling the ring up until it was in her hand. She paused to stare at it, stroking it and heard a soft echo in her mind.

"Girl?" Gollum's voice cut through Lucy's mind, causing her to look back. He had his head bent to the side studying her, his eyes greedily looking to the ring. Lucy quickly stuffed it into her pocket and moved back to him. "You know this way to Mordor?"

He nodded and Lucy took a deep breath. "Right. You take me there."

Gollum stared, his eyes widening more. "But…Master…"

Lucy grabbed him. "You keep saying you want to help him. To keep him safe, right?" Gollum nodded. "Well, so do I. And if that means taking this thing to Mount Doom myself, I'll do it."

Gollum swallowed. "The way is dangerous."

"Worse than what we've had already?" Lucy sniffed. "Right. Let's go, all right?"

Gollum swallowed. "But…"

Lucy shook her head. "No. No more words, no more talk. You lead me there and let them be. Let them have some peace, maybe go back home."

Gollum seemed uncertain but finally nodded and turned, reaching to climb up the winding stairs once more. Lucy took a look back at the sleeping hobbits and sighed. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But it's better this way." She turned and began following Gollum, her mind filled with guilt as well as the soft dark whisper at the back of her mind. She thus was totally unaware of the evil grin on the face of the creature leading her to the dark caverns high above them.

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**My apologies for the long delay, hit a bit of a writer's block with this chapter, hopefully not as long for the next parts. **


	21. The White City

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

The White City

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Edmund was no stranger to long rides but the pace of the last few days was getting to him. He and Boromir were hard-pressed to keep their horses up with Shadowfax as Gandalf drove his steed on as hard as he could. Their rests had been brief and Edmund was pushing aside any fatigue as he remembered the threat they were trying to prevent. He was aware of the changes in the terrain as they rode on, the plains of Rohan giving way to more forested areas and then even wider fields with more of a chill in the air.

Boromir had been silent for most of the trip, lost in his thoughts. Obviously, the idea of the hordes of Mordor descending on his home was heavy in his mind but Edmund also sensed some misgivings over returning. He didn't want to press and they had no time for idle conversation as it was but he hoped it wouldn't interfere with their coming mission.

Pippin was affected by this dark mood as well, not speaking or even much eating. He had gotten more sleep held by Gandalf on his saddle while they rode onward through day and night. He was no doubt still feeling guilt over his part in all this although no one seemed to blame him for it. Edmund knew all about making a horrible mistake and felt there was no use for recriminations now.

It was the afternoon of the fifth day of riding when they came to some short hills and Boromir's mood seemed to brighten. "Almost…" he whispered. He kicked his heels into his horse to drive him on, pulling even with Shadowfax. Edmund pushed his own steed to keep up as they came over the hill and saw the massive structure before them.

When Edmund had heard of the White City, he had thought of the classic city, a huge set of buildings spread out over a wide area. What he did not expect was to see that city stacked on itself. In essence, it was a tower, as wide as Helm's Deep twice over but much higher, miles of buildings and towers set in levels with wide roads circling about. It seemed part of the mountain behind it but still retained the essence of a city, white flags billowing in the breeze above the ramparts. What made it more unique was the fact it was all in white, the brick walls and buildings gleaming brilliantly in the sun. From one corner of the highest peak jutted a long precipice that gave an elegant touch to the already amazing sight.

"Minas Tirith." Boromir had a wide smile on his face. "City of Kings. Home." He breathed in the air as if inhaling a sweet scent. "It's far too long since I was here."

"We can sightsee later," Edmund interjected even as he stared at the edifice.

"He's right," Gandalf said. "We must see Denethor at once." He kicked his heels into Shadowfax and led the others racing toward the large marble wall surrounding the lower part of the city. Edmund craned his head up to look as a pair of sentries outside the gates stiffened and lowered their spears at the oncoming horsemen.

"Hold!" one called out. "By what right do…" He trailed off, his eyes widening as he saw the man in the middle. "Lord Boromir?" He and his colleague immediately raised their spears and bowed their heads. "My Lord, we did not expect your return!"

Boromir nodded to them. "Is Faramir here?"

The soldier shook his head. "No, my Lord. He is at Osgilath, aiding the garrison at the river."

Boromir took that in. "I see. We must meet with my father."

"We'll send a messenger at once!"

"It's faster for us to reach there ourselves," Gandalf declared as he kicked his heels into Shadowfax. He rode hard with Boromir and Edmund quickly following. As they rode, the people reacted at seeing Boromir in, talking among themselves. They raced around the wide streets, allowing Edmund to see more of the massive city and be even more impressed at the sheer strength in constructing such an area. He kept the riding up behind the others as they raced along the wide streets, feeling his ears pop at the height as he realized they were easily a mile above the ground and still riding higher. Even Narnia had no cities as grand as this.

They finally came to the top area as the stone walls and buildings gave way to a wide spot at the top of the jutting tower. A courtyard with a grassy plain was there with a fountain surrounding a large white tree. At the far end, set against the mountain, was a huge hall that was obviously the palace. Soldiers in elegant armor stood at attention, bowing in recognition of Boromir as he dismounted.

Edmund took a deep breath of the air which was so crisper at the top of the city. He gazed over the edge of the tower, feeling a bit dizzy at he fully realized how high they were. He blinked to get himself back on track as he followed the others across the courtyard. Pippin was staring in awe at the large tree before them. "Gandalf, that's the tree!"

"Yes," the wizard said, not sparing a glance as he walked toward the large building before them. "The White Tree of Gondor, the Tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not King, only a Steward, a caretaker of the throne."

They came to the entrance of the large building as Boromir spoke. "You must keep yourselves calm and respectful. My father can be a…difficult man in the best of times. He may be pleased to see me but not necessarily you."

Gandalf nodded. "Say nothing of the Ring. Or of Frodo."

Boromir looked to Edmund. "I would probably keep silent of Narnia as well along with your siblings."

Gandalf nodded again. "And tell him nothing of Aragorn either." He paused and looked to the two younger men. "In fact, it's probably best if the two of you simply stand there and not say a word."

Edmund frowned as Boromir moved to open the doors which were black in contrast to the white building. Boromir led the way down the marble halls with huge white columns supporting the domed ceiling. Set around the columns were statues Edmund guessed were past kings. The wide open area of the room led to a large throne of smooth black marble which was empty. In a chair beside the throne sat an elderly man in a long black robe holding a wooden staff.

At their approach, he lifted his head to reveal himself to be an aged man in his sixties, the weight of years on his face. His hair was a long mane of silver falling near his waist and his eyes seemed to gleam with some energy in him.

"Hail Denethor," Gandalf proclaimed. "Son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor. I bring tidings at this dark hour and counsel."

Denethor ignored him, smiling at the other man. "Boromir," he said in a raspy voice. "My son. You have returned to me."

"Father," Boromir smiled back, bowing his head. "I wish my return was under better circumstances but…"

"Where is it?" Denethor hissed as he leaned forward, his face eager. "Where is the Ring? Where is the weapon that will grant us victory?"

Boromir was startled at the request, as was Gandalf. The man recovered to speak as calmly as he could. "I could not…the Ring is not with me, Father. It is being taken to Mordor as we speak."

Denethor's face fell. "It…Sauron has it?" he gasped.

Boromir shook his head quickly. "No. No, a brave hobbit has taken it, to try and destroy it."

"Destroy?" Denethor frowned deeply. "You…let him try to…destroy what can save us?"

"The ring cannot save you, Denethor," Gandalf announced. "The Ring can save no one."

Denethor scowled at him. "You are not to dictate to me, wizard. Not you nor your companions!" He glared at Edmund, then Pippin. "Why are you here? By what right do you bring yourselves to my presence?"

"We are friends of Boromir and Gandalf," Edmund said. "I'm Edmund Pevensie and this is Perrigrin Took." The hobbit nodded and tried to smile but Denethor's glare silenced him.

The Steward looked back at Boromir. "I gave you a task," he hissed. "To bring back the weapon that can save us. I gave this to you rather than Faramir as I know you could accomplish it." He reached out as if to grab at Boromir's arm. "How can you fail me in this, my son?"

Boromir shook his head. "Father, the Ring would not avail us. I know it, I held it and felt its evil. It cannot…"

"It can!" Denethor growled. "It must!"

"The Ring is far from us now, Denethor," Gandalf spoke up. "We have more pressing concerns upon us. The enemy is on your doorstep! Where are Gondor's armies? You are not alone. Gondor still has friends. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

"The Beacons have not been lit in generations," Denethor snapped.

"It's the best way to aid our cause," Gandalf said.

The aged man's eyes narrowed_. "Our_ cause?" said Denethor mockingly "Or, rather, _your_ cause? You think you are wise, Mithrandir. Yet for all your subtleties, you have not wisdom. Do you really think the eyes of the White Tower are blind?"

Gandalf frowned in puzzlement and Denethor sneered. "I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with you right you would seek to supplant me." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh yes, I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. I have heard of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now that no ranger from the north will ever rule this kingdom, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship."

The last words were spat out to effect them all, the four exchanging uneasy glances. Gandalf managed to keep his gaze strong as he spoke in a hard tone. "Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, _Steward_."

Denethor stood up, almost frothing at the mouth in his anger. "The rule of Gondor is mine, and no other's!" he snarled.

Boromir appeared stunned at his father's words. Gandalf merely pursed his lips before turning to march away. Pippin and Edmund both started but quickly followed him. Boromir hung back, gazing at his father, who slumped back in his chair. "Father…" he began.

"Leave me," the aged man whispered. "You…" He looked up with pain in his eyes. "You have disappointed me so much, Boromir. To look upon you now is to look at your brother. For now, leave me."

Boromir bit his lip, keeping his face impassive as he turned to follow the others. They found themselves outside, silent as they digested the events they had just witnessed. "That could have gone better," Edmund finally drawled.

Boromir was naturally troubled, running a hand through his beard. "This…has been a difficult time for him with me away. He is under so much pressure and…

"Do not make false defense of him, Boromir," Gandalf coldly said. "All has turned to vain ambition," said Gandalf as they went out.

Edmund looked around, noting how the sky seemed darker around the city.

Gandalf glanced back at the citadel and sighed. "A thousand years this city has stood, and now at the whim of a madman, it will fall and the White Tree, the Tree of the King, will never flower again."

"Why are they still guarding it then?" said Pippin.

"They guard it because they still have hope," Boromir said. "A faint and fading hope that one day the king will return and make it flower."

"That a king will come and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay." Gandalf's voice reminded Edmund of one of his teachers. "The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent, dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls, musing on heraldry, or in high, cold towers, asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

Boromir frowned. "That's a rather harsh assessment, Gandalf."

"But sadly accurate," the wizard stated. "And you well know it, my friend."

Boromir shook his head. "There is still strength here, Gandalf. Strength that will be needed when the battle comes."

They walked to the end of the parapet which faced the east and looked across the plain to the horizon. In the distance not far off, Edmund could see a range of mountains and above them a familiar mix of black clouds, lightning and red light. "Mordor…" breathed Pippin.

"Yes, there it lies," said Gandalf wearily. "Ever has this city dwelt in its shadow."

Boromir sniffed the air. "A storm is coming."

"This is not the weather of the world," Gandalf declared. "This is a device of Sauron's making A broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the Shadow of Mordor reaches the city, it will begin."

There was a long pause before Pippin spoke up in a bright voice and smile. "Well…Minas Tirith. Very impressive. So, where are we off to next?"

While admiring the effort, Edmund doubted Pippin's tactic would work and was borne out by Gandalf uttering a mirthless chuckle. "We have nowhere else to go, Master Took. "This is where the hammer shall fall hardest. Here is we make our stand, come what may." His eyes fell on a set of ruins in the distance. "If the river at Osgiliath is breached, if the garrison falls, the orc armies will sweep upon us in hours. We must find a way to light the beacons and gain aid from Rohan."

Edmund stared at the horizon with a sad expression. "Is there any hope, Gandalf? For Frodo and Sam and…Lucy?"

"There never was much hope," the wizard offered with a sad smile. "Only a fool's hope."

Boromir shuffled his cloak as he turned and began to stride away. Edmund frowned as he followed, moving quickly to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"You heard Gandalf," Boromir said. "Osgilath is the key." He looked up at the darkening sky as the sun began to lower in the horizon. "It will be night soon, the perfect time for an orc attack. I can be there before it happens."

"You mean, we'll be there," Edmund said. As Boromir opened his mouth, Edmund shook his head. "Don't try, I'll be helping. Gandalf can keep an eye on Pippin in the meantime and another sword can help."

Boromir had to acknowledge that as he checked his sword. "Very well. We can get fresh horses at the stables and perhaps I can rouse a few more soldiers to join us."

"Will your father approve of you leaving so soon?" Edmund asked as he followed the elder man.

Boromir sniffed. "At the moment, my father would approve of nothing short of my handing the Ring to him on a platter. Hopefully, he can soothe his temper soon."

Edmund somehow doubted that as he moved to follow then paused. "I'll meet you there. I have to see Pippin about something." He turned back to race toward the large courtyard and saw the wizard and hobbit walking across it toward a side of the large palace, no doubt to find quarters. "Gandalf!" he called out.

The two turned to see him coming up, fumbling for something in his pack. "You mentioned those beacons," Edmund began. "The ones that can let Rohan know we need their help."

Gandalf nodded. "Yes. But Denethor will not allow them to be lit."

"So maybe we need to take the initiative," Edmund pressed. "I respect his standing as a ruler but if he can't see the danger and take the right steps to stop it, someone else has to." He pulled out a lantern handing it to Pippin.

The hobbit frowned at it. "This was a gift from the Lady in the Wood."

Edmund nodded. "She said it could light our darkest hour. This certainly seems to qualify." He winked at Gandalf. "I believe you two may find some use for it."

Gandalf let a soft smile come to his lips. "I believe you are right, my young king."

"But Denethor…" Pippin began.

"We'll discuss it later, Master Took," Gandalf said as he hustled the hobbit away and gave Edmund a grateful bow of the head. Edmund returned it as he made his way back to the stables.

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The chill of night came across Osgilath, casting dark shadows on the ruined city. It was quiet, the chaos of Orc attacks having pulled back so the defenders were taking the opportunity to rest, eat and tend to their wounded. Sentries were on guard but saw nothing out of the ordinary, hoping to enjoy these moments of rest. Thus, none saw the dark shapes that slowly rowed down the river. Each was loaded for bear by orcs who, for once, were choosing the stealthy route, keeping their rowing motions quiet as they could.

One sentry did catch sight of them, his eyes widening at the dozen boats making their way down the river. He was opening his mouth to set off an alarm when an orc archer fired a single bow that struck him in the neck. The soldier gurgled and fell back but even in dying, he managed to do his duty as the sound of his armor clashing down stone steps was enough to rouse those within earshot.

Faramir shot to his feet by his campfire, knowing instantly what had happened. "To the river!" he called out as his soldiers immediately followed him. They moved to the buildings by the river, seeing the oncoming boats. Faramir leaned by a column, trying to keep out of sight, most of the other soldiers doing the same, their weapons at the ready. The tension was high as the boats hit the shore, the bows falling like ramps to disgorge a horde of orcs with their battle howls.

Faramir waited until the first of them was nearby before launching himself around the column, slicing one down before moving to another. The other soldiers were soon engaged in battle, fighting against the orcs as best they could but the sheer number of attacks, not to mention their ferocity, soon led to casualties.

Arrows flew from behind as archers fired from their hidden places at the ruins. Orc archers fired back, striking down some while more orcs left their boats to attack. Faramir was doing his best to keep going, cutting down orc after orc. He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned but knew he wouldn't be in time to block the oncoming axe.

Suddenly, a silver blade caught the axe and then moved to stab the orc holding it. Faramir whirled to see a bearded face smiling at him. "You simply cannot keep out of trouble, can you little brother?"

"Boromir!" Faramir gasped. He forget the battle and lunged forward to embrace his older brother. Other soldiers saw it and cries soon filled the air. "Boromir!" "Thank the Valar, Lord Boromir has returned!" "Boromir is here!"

Faramir pulled back, his face showing amazement. "How did you…"

"We'll have time to talk later," Boromir said as he lifted his sword. He nodded to the young man with him. "Oh, Faramir, this is Edmund Pevensie, a valued comrade."

Farmir raised his eyebrows. "Pevensie? I believe I met your young sister."

It was Edmund's turn to be surprised. "Lucy? You saw Lucy?"

A loud howl distracted them and they saw another trio of boats filled with orcs landing. "I believe we have more pressing matters at hand," Boromir noted.

Faramir nodded as he looked to the soldiers around them. "For Gondor and those you love, fight on!"

"Follow the Sons of the Steward!" a soldier cried out, lifting his sword, others taking up the cry. The rallied troops surged forward to attack the orcs. Edmund was right with them, cutting down every creature who came nearby. He felt they had a chance but the enemy troops were still coming in more boats and the darkness overhead seemed to be growing more. He could only hope it would be enough for the light of the White Wizard to shine through.


	22. The March to War

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

The March to War

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It had been a while since Peter had the time to be bored. Ever since arriving on Middle-Earth, the siblings had been going from one adventure to another with barely any time to rest. As such, the last few days were a bit of a comedown. Yet it felt good to finally be able to relax as Peter reminded himself of the dangers of wishing for more action. He kept himself busy during the day training with the Rohan soldiers and going over maps, preparing for the chance of an attack. Theoden seemed open to his suggestions, seemingly humbled a bit by Helm's Deep.

Susan was keeping busy with the people, helping the young ones especially and those who had lost loved ones at Helm's Deep. It never ceased to impress Peter how gentle his sister was and the strength kept him going. He knew she was as worried as he was about Edmund and Lucy but they needed to keep their minds focused. That could be difficult giving the down time as Peter now had time to let his thoughts wander to the dangers the two could be in. Edmund he wasn't worried about too much as he was with Gandalf and Boromir. But Lucy…Even as a king, Peter couldn't let go of the protectiveness of being the eldest and Lucy was still just a child to him, no matter her wisdom and strength.

He was pacing outside the main hall, seeing Aragorn sitting on the steps, chewing on a dish of food. The man's eyes were fixed on the horizon as they had been for the last two days. "They do have sentries, you know," Peter said as he came up to the man.

Aragorn didn't reply but kept staring out. "A watched pot never boils, in case you don't have that saying here," Peter said. "You can't will these beacons lit."

"Maybe not," Aragorn agreed. "But we must be ready. The moment Gondor calls for aid, we must ride to him."

"You really think they'll ask? From what Boromir said, Denethor doesn't seem the kind to call for aid."

"I am certain Gandalf will find a way," Aragorn said. "And Theoden will comply. There is more at stake than simply pride. The fate of us all rests on this battle."

"No pressure at all," Peter dryly said. He was about to go on when a flicker in the distance got his attention. He looked to the horizon, frowning as he saw something glimmering on a hillside. Aragorn saw it too, rising to his feet and staring as a torch blossomed to full flame, visible for miles in any direction in the clear day. After staring for a long moment, Aragorn broke away to run toward the hall, Peter in quick pursuit.

They burst into the hall, Aragorn pointing behind him. "The Beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!"

Theoden was standing by his throne, startled by the entrance. Susan was at a table nearby as Gimli and Legolas appeared to be talking at another table. All looked to Aragorn then turned to look over at Theoden. "Gondor calls for aid," Aragorn added, his face tense as he stared at Theoden, wondering with everyone else what the king would decide.

Theoden looked thoughtful for a long moment before solemnly nodding. "And Rohan will answer!" He looked over to Gamling nearby. "Muster the Rohirim!"

Gamling nodded and moved quickly and in seconds, a bell was ringing throughout the town. Peter smiled in relief as Theoden nodded to him. "Whatever their failures to us…I cannot allow my fellow men to suffer under Sauron's wrath."

He moved to Eomer. "Assemble the army at Dunharrow, as many men as can be found. You have two days." Eomer nodded and turned to go but was stopped by his king's arm. "On the third, we ride for Gondor…and war."

Eomer bowed in understanding as he headed off. Theoden turned to the other man by him. "Gamling, make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow." The man bowed and headed outside.

"How many men can we summon in that time?" Peter asked.

"Hopefully enough," Theoden sighed as he moved off. "We shall leave a small guard here with the people but the majority of forces must ride at once. Time is of the essence."

"We're ready," Peter said with a nod.

Theoden moved to him. "Again, this is not your land. This need not be your fight."

"And again, we want to help," Peter told him. "Edmund is in the middle of it all anyway and needs someone to bail him out of it. Besides, you need every sword you can get."

Theoden was forced to nod in agreement. "Very well. Prepare to ride." He made his way to his chambers as Peter and Susan headed outside. Already, the village was bustling with activity as soldiers loaded up wagons and prepared their horses. Peter headed over to a horse, seeing Eowyn nearby packing her own horse with supplies. Aragorn was next to her. "You ride with us?"

Eowyn nodded. "Just to the encampment. It is tradition for the women of the court to bid farewell to the men."

Aragorn paused before reaching to pull up a blanket on her saddle to reveal a sword. Eowyn pulled it back down, her expression neutral. She leaned in to speak softly but with emotion. "The men have found their captain. They will follow you to battle, even to death. You have given us hope."

She broke away to lead her horse off, leaving Aragorn deep in thought. Peter came up next to him and nodded. "She's right. You have helped this land greatly."

"They should look to their rightful king, not I," Aragorn quickly said.

"Maybe they are," Peter intoned. Aragorn quickly glanced at him as the younger man walked off.

Gimli was grumbling as he did his best to saddle a small horse. "Horsemen, humph! I wish I could muster a legion of dwarves, fully armed and filthy."

Legolas was grim as he mounted his own horse. "Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear it already marches on their own lands." Gimli seemed more grave as he took in the seriousness of the elf's words.

Susan mounted her horse, surprised to see Merry on a pony. "What are you doing?"

"Joining you, of course!" the hobbit piped up. "I offered my sword to Theoden and he accepted!" He brought himself up as much as he could. "Merriadoc Brandybuck, esquire of Rohan."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Oh, heaven help us all." She paused and blanched as she realized those words had a deeper meaning right now.

By this point, the horses were assembled, the soldiers prepared. Theoden was astride his own steed gazing about the area with a haunted expression, as if he didn't expect to ever see it again. "Now is the hour, riders of Rohan!" Eomer called out from his horse. "Oaths you have taken! Now fulfill them all. To Lord and Land. Ha!"

A cry went out as the soldiers of Rohan began to ride out of the village. Merry tried to push his pony along until Peter raced by to give it a whack on its rear and send it along. The Rohirrim quickly strode out and across the plains toward the land under siege nearby.

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He couldn't explain it, but Edmund had always had a knack for keeping a mental tally during battles. He'd just killed his seventeenth orc with his sword, kicking it back down a flight of stairs. He didn't need much time to find another target as an orc lunged at him with a spear that Edmund barely dodged. He sliced the spear with his sword before slamming the blade into the orc's face, sending him down.

Edmund raced down the steps to find Faramir and Bormir fighting back to back with a sizeable pile of orcs around them. He also saw they were virtually the only Gondorians still fighting as the bodies of other soldiers were strewn about.

"Faramir!" The men looked over to see Madril coming forward, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. The elder man grunted in pain as he stumbled over. "There are too many of them! They keep crossing the river and we cannot hold them!"

Faramir hissed and looked to Boromir. His brother nodded, understanding the situation. Taking a deep breath, Faramir called out. "Fall back! Retreat to the city! Fall back!"

The cry echoed through the city as the remaining troops broke away from the battle to run to the town's outskirts. Edmund fell in behind the brothers as they raced off a step ahead of the oncoming orcs. Edmund heard a cry and turned to see Madril falling to an orc blade as a rugged orc with a gnarled hand stepped up toward him. "Madril!" he yelled out, ready to head toward him only to be pulled back by Faramir.

"We can't help him," the man hissed, his face marked with anger and pain at seeing his old ally fall. "And he would not want us to throw our lives away trying." He pulled Edmund along as they broke out of the city, heading to their horses. Soon, they were riding away from the ruins as orcs charged out of the stone field, some firing arrows after the riders.

Edmund was just feeling his heart slowing down when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a hideous creature that looked like a flying lizard coming over them. Atop it was a hooded and cloaked figure that Edmund figured was one of the Nazgul Gandalf had mentioned. The creature let out a cry as it swooped down, Edmund realizing it was roughly the size of large airplane. Horsemen scattered but several were crushed under the creature's attack as its claws picked two up right out of their saddles, flying over thirty feet high before letting them drop.

"Faster!" Faramir ordered although it was hardly needed as the Nazgul flew overhead, its cry eliciting fear in the horsemen below. Edmund kicked his heels into his steed but it was going as fast as it could already as he saw the city approaching but still too far. The shadow fell again as he saw the Nazgul charging down.

As if by magic, a figure on a brilliant white horse appeared, holding up his wand. A blast of pure white light emitted outward, striking the Nazgul dead on. The creature hissed in agony as it fell back. Edmund could see Gandalf was on the horse, the wand continuing the light to drive the Nazgul away. With a wave, the wizard led the horsemen toward the open city gates as they quickly came together.

"Mithrandir," Boromir nodded in gratitude at the wizard. "They've taken the bridges in the west bank."

"Battalions of orcs are crossing the river," Faramir added. "With Osigilath under their control, they have a beachead for the city."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted!" a soldier cried out. "Long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Foreseen and done nothing!" Gandalf spat, turning his horse. As he did, the men saw Pippin sitting before him, wrapped in Gandalf's cloak. Faramir's eyes fell on him, lighting up with recognition. Gandalf saw it and frowned. "Faramir? This is not the first Halfling you've encountered."

Pippin's eyes lit up. "Frodo? You saw Frodo and Sam?"

"And Lucy?" Edmund pressed, remembering Faramir's words earlier.

The man nodded. "In Ithilien, not two days ago." His face became troubled. "Gandalf, they've taken the road to the Morgul Vale"

The wizard's face became grave. "And then the Pass of Cirith Ungol."

"What does that mean?" Edmund frowned.

"Tell me all you know," Gandalf commanded as they headed to the upper levels of the city. Faramir did so as they headed up the long way toward the citadel. Gandalf nodded as Faramir completed the tale. "The path they take is quite dangerous with a horror they may not be aware of."

"I have heard of it," Faramir said. "Some great creature in the rocks."

"Shelob," Gandalf said. "A monstrous she-spider that even the orcs fear."

"Lucy should handle it," Edmund said. "It's Susan who hates spiders."

Gandalf didn't seem to hear him as they rode ahead. "With the river taken, nothing can stop the march of Mordor's forces upon us." He looked to the others. "We must convince your father to prepare our defenses at once."

At the looks on the faces of Boromir and Faramir, Edmund could tell that was not an easy task.

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Edmund has suspected Denethor would not be in a pleasant mood when they returned to the citadel. Once again, his pessimism was well founded.

"This is how you would serve your city?" Denethor spat as he hunched on his throne, his eyes fixed on his two sons. "You would risk its utter ruin?"

Faramir and Boromir stood at attention as Gandalf stood in a corner watching. Edmund and Pippin were nearby also watching the family scene before them. "I did what I judged to be right," Faramir defended himself.

"What you judged to be right?" Denethor snorted. "You sent the Ring into Mordor in the hands of a witless halfling."

'Hey," Pippin began to speak but Gandalf quickly put a hand over his mouth as Denethor continued. "It should have been brought back to the Citadel to be kept safe." His eyes became dark. "Hidden. Dark and deep in the vaults, not to be used. Unless at the uttermost end of need."

Faramir shook his head. "I would not use the Ring. Not if Minas Tirith were falling into ruin and I alone could save her."

Denethor snorted. "Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a king of old." He nodded to the other man. "Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift."

"No, Father, I would not have." Boromir stepped forward. "I felt its power, its evil. I wanted to keep it for my own, Father, to use it to evil."

Denethor sighed with seeming true sadness. "Boromir…what has happened to you? You were supposed to be loyal to me, not some wizard's plaything!"

Gandalf glowered at that. "Your pride is becoming more and more dangerous to your land and your people, Denethor."

The steward scowled at him. "Do not speak to me, wizard! I know it was you who lit the beacons against my command! You should count yourself fortunate I do not have you imprisoned for that!"

Pippin was on his feet before Edmund could stop him, kneeling before Denethor. "My lord. It was I who lit the beacons. I did so on my own and knowing full well the consequences. I offer you my service as restitution for my offense."

Edmund smacked a hand to his forehead in dismay. Gandalf walked forward, whacking Pippin with his staff as he did. "Get up, get up." He stood before Denethor with a hard expression. "The beacons are now lit, Denethor. Rohan is coming but not before the hordes of Sauron arrive. We must prepare…"

"Leave."

Gandalf was actually taken aback at the venom in Denethor's tone as the man glared at them all. "Leave me. All of you. Gondor's fate will be decided by me alone." His eyes fell upon his sons. "I shall call on you later. But for now, I wish you all gone." He slumped back in his throne, eyes casting downward. After a long pause, the group slowly left him behind, the doors slamming shut behind them.

"All right, someone has to say it," Edmund piped up. "The old man's lost it."

Boromir and Faramir both whirled on him but Edmund held up a hand. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear it but it's true. Maybe he was a good man and a good ruler once but he's lost his way. He refuses to see the danger, refuses to get any help and that's going to get a hell of a lot of people killed unless you two do something."

"Us?" Faramir frowned.

"You're his sons," Edmund pressed. "If you can't talk to him and try to make him see reason…" He shrugged. "Well, then you two are the heirs. You can…"

"No," Boromir snapped.

"Boromir…"

"He is still the Steward," the elder man said, his face determined. "He is our father as well as our ruler. We cannot simply try to overthrow him."

"If you don't, it'll be disaster," Edmund stressed. "You know that. We can't let it happen."

"You strike me as a brave lad, Edmund," Faramir said. "And a wise one. But you don't fully understand what you're suggesting. This city's spirit hangs a thread. For us to remove our proper ruler at this time can be too much for the people to take."

"At least they'd still be alive," Edmund pointed out. "Just…" He sighed. "I understand the need to follow rulers and obey them, I do. But there's obedience and there's blind obedience. Following the latter can bring all of this," he waved at the city around him. "Down around us all."

"And so shall fall the rest of man," Gandalf intoned. "The time has come for many a difficult choice, my friends. This may be one of the most important."

Boromir shook his head as he began to walk away. "I cannot listen to that. Father can still see reason, I know it."

"You always tried to look for the best in him, brother," Faramir sighed as he followed. "But I fear his way has been lost now and yet we must do our best to earn his favor."

Edmund watched them go and shook his head at Gandalf. "This is going to be worse than I thought."

"War usually is," Gandalf sighed. "And often the ties of loyalty are all that can sustain some." He glanced at Pippin and then walk off muttering "service of the steward…"

Edmund and Pippin looked to each other. "It just popped up," the hobbit defended himself.

"Don't blame yourself," Edmund sighed. He smiled. "So you used the lantern to light the beacons?"

"I did," Pippin said with a proud smile. "I got it in my room still."

"I'll get it later," Edmund told him. He took a deep breath. "At least we know Frodo, Sam and Lucy are still all right."

"For now," Pippin muttered. "Gandalf didn't seem hopeful for them."

Edmund put a hand on the hobbit's head. "Lucy has experience overcoming low hopes, Pippin." He smiled, hoping he was as confident as he showed at the thought of his young sister and the dangers ahead of her.

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**Apologies for the long delay, hopefully not as big next time.**


	23. Inside the Web

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**Inside the Web**

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Lucy let out a long moan as she pulled herself up yet another rock wall. The wind was far more chilling this high up on the mountainside and her arms were aching from the effort to pull herself along. She was grateful she didn't go for keeping her nails long like Susan did as they would have broken by now the way she dug into the rock. She took a deep breath as she hefted herself up once more into a standing position on a ledge.

"Come, come!" Gollum hissed. The creature seemed to have an easier time at this, almost at home crawling among the rocks. His face seemed eager as he motioned Lucy to follow. "Close we are now, close, yes!"

Lucy leaned on the rock wall, catching her breath as she began to wonder if this really had been a good idea. She felt so incredibly heavy, especially at her hip where the ring was nestled in her pocket. Her heart went out to Frodo for bearing this burden for so long. She could only hope to be able to carry it long enough to get it to Mount Doom. At the moment, she'd settle simply for seeing some solid ground again.

"Hurry!" Gollum pressed, waving for her to follow. Trying to ignore her aches, Lucy did so, finding herself outside a large tunnel inside the rock. Wind blew out of it, musty but still feeling good after the long climb. It was dark but not pitch black and Lucy could sense light deep inside.

She looked to Gollum. "This is it?"

He nodded. "Yes, yesssss! Go in, go in! Other side leads to path to mountain of fire, yessss!"

Lucy wrinkled her nose at the odor wafting out. "What is that?"

'Orcsses sometimes come through here," Gollum replied. "Go in, go in!"

Lucy frowned. The eagerness Gollum was showing at her going in was setting off a warning in her mind. She'd hoped getting him away from Frodo might lessen his intense moods but the creature still seemed intent on doing anything that would involve the ring getting away. Still, he'd led her this far and she supposed it was better she journey this way than Frodo and Sam. "All right…you go in first."

Gollum seemed surprised but then nodded slowly. "Yes…yess….lead the way, I shall." He ducked into the tunnel, scampering ahead at a fast pace. Lucy did her best to follow, stumbling a bit over the uneven terrain. She reached out a hand and jerked it back as she felt it touch a cobweb. She wiped it on her dress with a hiss as she stepped back, stumbling over the ground. While she didn't have the utter terror of spiders her sister did, Lucy wasn't a fan of them by any means.

"Gollum?" she whispered as she didn't see him. Frowning, she peered in the dark tunnel. "Gollum? Where are you?" She risked raising her voice to call out. "Gollum!" No answer came, just the wind and sound of skimpering up ahead. Lucy followed, reaching to pull out her dagger and hold it tightly. She was starting to get a very bad feeling about this as she stumbled once more on the ground.

Hissing, she looked down at the rock…and realized it wasn't rock at all. It was bone. Many bones. Many, many bones stretching along the tunnel floor. Gazing up, Lucy could see webs hanging from the ceiling with the bones of orcs and other creatures caught within them. A chill went through Lucy as the penny dropped and she realized too late the truth.

This wasn't a passage. It was a trap.

She slowly began to back up toward the entranceway, her dagger out, her eyes darting about. She heard some sound behind her and turned to see a shadow blocking the entranceway. Lucy frowned as she stared at it, not understanding what it was…Until it started to move. In the dim light, a shiny pair of small globes stared back at her. Underneath them, a maw opened, a hiss exiting along with a trail of thick salivia. The shape rose up as the light revealed eight huge hairy legs holding it up.

Lucy was not a girl given to easily being frightened. But the sight of a spider the size of a small tank was more than enough to bring a loud scream erupting from her lips and throat. She scampered back as the creature lunged forward, its maw opening and screeching at her. Lucy fell back, rolling on the ground but coming back to her feet and slashing out with the dagger. The spider jumped back to avoid the blow, giving Lucy the time to turn and run as fast as she could down the tunnel ahead of her. She could hear the spider chasing but spared no time looking back, intent on charging as fast as she could.

She ducked her head as she turned, nearly losing her footing but managing to continue onward. She spared a glance to see the spider chasing still, intent on its prey ahead. Seeing a small alcove nearby, Lucy ducked into it, rolling down the slippery slope and landing in a pile of bones. She gasped in pain but was grateful her small size was helping her. She glanced back to see the spider at the entrance of the hole, trying in vain to get back down. It finally scurried off down the tunnel.

Lucy took a breath as she got back to her feet. She knew this place had catacombs and this spider must have another way to get to her. The sooner she managed to get out, the better. The knowledge gave her new speed as she got to her feet and ran more. She brushed past more cobwebs, stumbled over more bones and did her best to look past the shadows to a light far ahead. Swallowing, she raced toward it, doing her best to push past the webs before her and reach it. She reached forward to peel at the webs behind her…and her hands stuck to it.

She gasped as her momentum carried her forward before she could realize what was happening. She struggled but the webs held her tight despite her best efforts. She gasped as she tried to free her dagger, hearing the noise of approaching steps far behind her but coming closer.

"Naughty little fly……why does sssssshe cry?" The high-pitched mocking tone echoed throughout the tunnel, freezing Lucy momentarily. From a rock just ahead, two thin hands reached up and then Gollum's head came into view, his face pulled back in a twisted grin. "Caught in a web! Sooooon you're be….eaten." He licked his lips in anticipation.

An anger overcame Lucy unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She'd done her best to be kind to this creature, despite knowing what kind of being he was and what he'd done. She'd tried to be open to him, tried to defend him and even trusted him. And after all that, he'd lured her into this trap, the same trap he no doubt had hoped to pull Frodo into, to kill either of them in order to grab that wretched ring. With that fury, Lucy felt a new strength fill her and she wrenched her hand up to slash at the webbing around her.

A normal dagger may not have been enough to cut the thick webs but then, this dagger wasn't normal. It took doing with some thicker strands but it began to slice through, Lucy feeling herself able to move more. She glanced behind to see the spider begin to come into the tunnel behind her. It was taking its time, not understanding that Lucy was freeing herself, no doubt enjoying stalking its prey. The sight made Lucy cut and slice faster, sweat racing down her brow as she managed to get enough of the webbing cut away to push herself forward. Gollum's smile vanished as he saw her coming and backed away.

The spider was also seeing Lucy coming loose and quickly picked up its pace. Lucy managed to slice at the last webbing around her legs and lunged forward, somersaulting on the ground but coming back to her feet as the spider charged at her. She leapt forward to exit the small opening at the end of the tunnel, the spider at her heels but unable to exit the small opening. Lucy rolled about down the rocky hill, landing on her back with a loud gasp. She was barely recovering when Gollum leapt upon her, his thin hands going at her throat.

"Not escape usssss!" the creature hissed, his eyes wide with madness and fury. "Not esssscape this time, Preciousssss!" His fingers clutched at her throat but Lucy was saved by the fact much of her clothing was covered with remnants of the slick webbing. Thus, Gollum was unable to get as good a grip on her as he could, giving Lucy the chance to push him back. He pushed again and for the first time in her life, Lucy threw a punch, smashing her fist into Gollum's jaw, sending him reeling. She grabbed at her dagger and pointed the tip at him, steeling herself. "Get away."

Gollum hissed as she rose up, her dagger held stronger as she glared at him. "Get…away…before I…"

Gollum whimpered, his face falling into his old mask of pity. "Please….pleases…it wasn't usssss! It was the Preciousssss! The Precioussss made usssss do it!"

Lucy felt the weight of the ring in her pocket and realized the pain in her hand and the anger she'd felt at Gollum, the desire to hurt him. She lowered the dagger as it sunk in how badly that feeling had taken hold of her. "I…I have to destroy it, Gollum. For all of us…I have to do it."

Gollum stared at her and for a moment, Lucy thought he would accept it. Then his face twisted and he hissed. "Noooooooo!" He leapt forward at her, Lucy instinctively ducking and Gollum sailed over her and into a dark chasm behind them. His cry echoed as Lucy looked down but saw only blackness.

She sat back, taking breaths as she wiped herself down, brushing away the last web pieces from her. She winced as she rose up, trying to get a bearing on her surroundings. She was in the middle of a rocky cavern with wide cliffs overhead, unable to make out what lay beyond. She glanced to the side to see a wide path leading upward. Seeing as how there was no going back, Lucy trudged forward.

She tried to ignore the pain in her body not to mention her fears. She brought back the reason she was doing this, to spare Frodo that horrible burden. Lucy knew her chances were poor but she'd spent years doing dangerous things in Narnia and life in wartime London wasn't easy either. As she walked, she felt her courage boosted, believing that if she got to the end of the path that she'd be able to find her way to the mountain. She knew from experience it'd be easy for a small figure to slip through undetected. All she needed to do was keep her wits about her and she'd be okay.

Sadly, those wits failed to take into consideration the fact that this very narrow path she was taking just happened to be an excellent trap for a predator.

She was heading up stone steps to a small clearing surrounded by holes burrowed into the rock when she heard the skittering. Lucy froze, her dagger back in her hands as she slowly turned around to look behind her. She could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck and knew something was watching her. She kept herself steady as she looked about behind her, determined to see that monstrous creature if it approached. Lucy had never been a hunter, that was more her brothers. Thus, she labored under the misapprehension that a creature so large could not be quiet and stealthy and it wasn't until too late she felt the shadowy presence lowering itself behind her.

She whirled around, her dagger ready but it was too late. The spider was already lunging forward, its tail erupting with a barb that struck her right under the breastbone. Lucy cried out in agony but the pain was fleeting. That wasn't a good thing as a numbness swept over her entire body, froth coming to her mouth as her dagger fell from limp fingers. She fell backward, her head light, barely aware of what was happening to her. That was probably for the best as she would have been horrified by how the spider caught her and, with a mix of tenderness and twisted desire, began to wrap her in thick webbing emitting from its mouth. It spun Lucy about like a rag doll as it covered her fully, the young girl's mind fading away. Images filled it of her life, her family, London….and one image above all. That wonderful, beautiful, noble lion whose name filled her mind in a combination of plea and prayer.

_Aslan…._

The darkness was almost upon her when a strong and proud voice cut through the air.

"Get away from her, you _filth."_

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It had been one hour earlier when Sam awoke on the rocky ledge. He glanced about, taking in the area around them when he saw the empty blanket next to him. He stared at it in confusion before his eyes went wide and he reached to shake Frodo. "Mister Frodo! Mister, Frodo, wake up!"

Frodo sighed as he opened his eyes. "Come on, Sam, it can't be…"

"Miss Lucy is gone!" That woke Frodo right up as he sat up and stared at the empty space. He suddenly realized how lighter he felt, in spirit and body and reached for his pocket. "The ring…the ring is gone!"

"And so's Gollum," Sam frowned. The two looked at each other in understanding. "Oh, hell, she's taken the ring along!" Sam gasped.

Frodo shook his head as he got up. "We have to find her. It's too much for her, I know it is."

Sam looked up at the mountain ahead. "Looks like only one way to go." He sighed as he flexed his arms. "Let's hope we're in time."

It took several minutes for the two to climb up, even as fast as they could. Frodo was moving faster than he had in a while, struck by how he felt lighter in spirit with the ring gone. However, he also felt a need to get it back, a desire greater than he would have thought possible before. He brushed it aside as he and Sam continued to quickly climb up the rocks. They soon found their way to the tunnel ahead, Sam peering in first. "Blast, wish we had torches."

"Torches…" Frodo reached into his pocket to take out the small vial Galadriel had given him. Whispering in Elvish, he held it up as it shone brightly, illuminating the tunnel ahead. The two began to creep forward, their swords out as the light washed around them, clearly showing the remains of creatures in webs.

Sam swallowed. "Faramir mentioned some sort of monster here…I had hoped he was just exaggerating."

Frodo paused at the ground, looking down to find a piece of cloth lying there. "This looks like her handkerchief…" he muttered as he rose up to see some indentations in the ground. "Two footsteps for her…and handprints…"

"Gollum," Sam hissed. "That rotter was planning to lead us in here!" He shook his head. "I'll kill him. I'm sorry, Mister Frodo but I don't care what you say. If Miss Lucy's been harmed, I'm going to gut that monster myself."

Frodo rose up, his face harder than his oldest friend had ever seen. "If she's hurt, Sam…I may save you the trouble." The two made their way down the tunnel, coming across more evidence of tracks and the cut webs ahead. As Lucy had before, they made their way down the small holes and the rocky paths and soon were coming to the clearing just in time to see the monstrous spider wrapping Lucy up in its webbing.

"Get away from her, you _filth," _Sam spat, his sword held upward. Frodo was next to him with Sting as the spider turned away, dropping Lucy and hissing at the two hobbits. "Spread out, Sam," Frodo said, moving to one side, his friend to the other. The spider backed up, its multiple eyes glancing from one to the other as if deciding who to attack first. It finally chose Sam, charging at the younger hobbit, hissing loudly and striking out with its front legs. Sam ducked back, swinging his sword to try and strike at the spider.

The monster hissed out as it backed up to strike again. Too late, it sensed Frodo moving in from behind, Sting swinging out to slice at its back leg, cutting the lower part of it off. The spider shrieked in agony as it whirled around at him. As it did, Frodo thrust the glowing vial at its face, another shriek echoing as the creature was blinded. That gave Sam the opportunity to charge in and hack at its rear while Frodo struck at another of its legs. "Not so easy when they can fight back, is it!" Sam smugly yelled.

Bleeding from the multiple points, the creature's rudimentary intelligence recognized that it was far better to live and hunt another day. It leaned back before leaping outward with surprising agility, heading to the nearest rocky wall and crawling up to one of its massive holes, vanishing into the darkness. Frodo and Sam stared after it, ready for it to return before relaxing. Turning, the two saw the bound figure on the ground and raced toward her.

"Miss Lucy!" Sam cried. "Miss Lucy, can you hear us?" Frodo pulled at the webbing on her face to show her features pale and sweaty, her eyes wide. Frodo pulled at more of the webbing, trying to get to her pocket. "Where is it, where is it…"

"What?" Sam asked even as he helped peel more webbing away.

"The vial the elves gave her," Frodo answered. "They said it could be used to aid wounds, it might help her here." He finally pulled it out, uncorking it as Sam held Lucy's head up. Frodo poured the vial to her lips, some of it dribbling on her chin but he kept it going until a quarter of it was done. He pulled it back, corking it again as Lucy started coughing, spitting out some froth.

"Can you hear us?" Sam gasped.

Lucy moaned out. "Can't…move…"

Frodo held up Sting, ready to cut the rest of the webbing away. "At least you can talk, good sign."

"Gollum…" Lucy croaked. "Led me…"

"I knew it,' Sam snarled. "When I get my hands on him…"

"Forget about him," Frodo urged. "Come on, we'll cut you loose and…."

The sound of voices from the stone pathway ahead came to them. The two hobbits froze as they heard them coming closer and Sting started to glow. "Orcs," Frodo cursed.

"My pocket…" Lucy gasped. "The ring…take it…and go…"

"I can't…"

"Please…" Lucy whimpered. "Have to….your mission….I'll be…do it…"

Frodo stared at her before moving his hand back to her pocket. It only took a moment to take the ring out, holding it in his hand. He stared at it before Sam grabbed at his shoulder. "Come on, Mister Frodo. Come on!" Giving Lucy a long look of sorrow, Frodo was pulled away from his friend, the two hiding behind a cropping of rocks nearby.

A pair of orcs came down the stone steps of the pathway, the leader short and with a sharp nose, sniffing as he saw Lucy. "Huh! Old Shelob's dropped a meal off!"

The other one, more heavyset and squat, peered at Lucy. "She dead?"

"Naw, just paralyzed by venom." The lead orc grinned. "Come on, let's get her back to the tower. Sure we can get a decent meal out of her." The other orc nodded and picked Lucy up, easily carrying her as they headed off, laughing.

"Damn it all to blazes and back," Sam hissed. "What do we do?" He glanced to his friend. "Mister Frodo?"

Frodo was staring at the ring in his hand, feeling its now-familiar weight and the power of it. He stared at it for a long moment before closing his hand and sliding it into his pocket. "We go after her."

Sam stared as Frodo turned to face him. "We have to. I know our quest is to destroy the ring but…" He swallowed. "She tried to save us. We must do the same for her."

Sam smiled and put a hand to his shoulder. "Let's get to it, Mister Frodo."

Frodo took a deep breath. "It'll be hard…Just the two of us against a camp of orcs."

Sam did his best to smile more. "Maybe we'll give them a chance to surrender first."

Frodo couldn't help but laugh softly as the two friends quickly set to rescue the young queen.

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**Apologies again for a long delay, was out of town and a bit of a block getting this chapter out. Hopefully not as long before the next. **


	24. Gathering Armies

The Chronicles of the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**Gathering Armies**

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The ride to Dunharrow had luckily been free of any encounters with Wargs, orcs or other dangers. The Rohirrm were still quite fresh and prepared to do battle despite the obvious worry of the odds against them. Peter and Susan rode along with the soldiers in the lead behind Theoden, their experience at Helm's Deep marking them a better place among the troops. The ride was fast as they didn't have to hold back for civilians and the supply trains had already been sent ahead.

Soon they were coming upon Dunharrow, the hill rising high above the plains by a series of mountains. The top of the hill was a wide open setting that was already filled with hundreds of tents spread all around. Soldiers were everywhere, putting up more tents, unloading wagons and organizing supplies and weapons. As Theoden rode in, soldiers moved to the side, bowing heads while others let out a cheer at the King's arrival.

"Make way for the King! Make way!" A rider called out as he walked to the coming horses.

"Gimbold," Theoden greeted the man. "How many?"

""I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord."

Théoden nodded as they rode on. Gamling came up to him on his own steed. "We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Theoden King."

"Where are the riders from Snowbourne?"

"None have come, My Lord." Théoden's face darkened but continued to ride on. Peter and Susan followed his gaze about as they rode to the center of the camp where a large and lavish tent was already set up. Bearers moved to help Theoden off his horse as he moved toward the tent which overlooked a cliff face. A dirt road led down to the wide valley below. "Have the generals meet me as soon as all troops are set up," he commanded. "We can work on our strategy then."

The children had dismounted and headed over to where Theoden gazed out at the valley, staring in the direction of Gondor. Aragorn had joined them as the king's expression was grim. "Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I'd hoped."

"It's a big kingdom, sire and the word just went out," Peter said. "More will come."

Aragorn sighed. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor. But every hour lost hastens its defeat." He looked to Theoden. "We have till dawn. Then we must ride."

With obvious reluctance, Theoden nodded in agreement. Susan was glancing back as she saw some horses suddenly rear up, their neighs loud as their riders were having trouble with them. "What's wrong?" she asked Eomer as he directed the horsemen.

The man's face was marked with worry. "They grow restless near the shadow of the mountain." Susan glanced over to see the large rock face looming over the field. A chill seemed to come from it, one that had nothing to do with the weather. It was the same feeling she'd had seeing Fangorn only far worse. A path was at the bottom of it, the terrain seeming to change from bright grass to dead rock instantly, the sun not able to shine in the gloomy path.

Her wariness was shared by Gimli and Legolas as they also looked down the way. "That path there," the dwarf began. "Where does it lead?"

"It is the road to the Dimholt," Legolas answered, his voice somber. "The door under the mountain."

Eomer looked to Susan. "None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil."

For once, Susan wasn't dubious about the supernatural talk, having seen more than enough in Middle Earth to prove how powerful magic was here. She shivered watching it as Aragorn stared down the road. His face was haunted as if he was watching something beyond Susan's sight. Gimli touched his arm. "Aragorn!" The man jumped as he whirled on the dwarf. Seeing the expression, Gimli tried to smile. "Come on, let's find some food."

Aragorn allowed himself to be pulled away, his gaze still wary as he looked at the path. Susan shivered again as she followed them to the center of the camp.

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By nightfall, as Theoden had hoped, several hundred more soldiers had arrived. It was still less than hoped but better than nothing. The mood of the camp was somber but still hopeful as the warriors prepared for the upcoming battle. Susan and Peter sat by a nearby fire, Peter sharpening his sword. Susan sipped from a cup as she stared at the fire. "You think Edmund's okay?"

"He has Boromir and Gandalf with him, he should be," Peter replied. "From what they say, Gondor is well defended by stone walls, they should hold out."

"Helm's Deep had walls," Susan pointed out. "That didn't stop them."

Peter's reply was cut off as a tent flap opened and Merry came out. Both siblings widened their eyes at the sight of the hobbit clad in a suit of armor, obviously cut at several places to fit him but still strong, complete with helmet. He scurried off, waving a small sword in front of him as Eowyn stepped out of the tent smiling. Susan couldn't help giggling as Merry skipped off. "I can't believe you did that."

"He's an esquire of Rohan," Eowyn stated. "He should look the part."

Eomer grunted from his spot nearby. "You should not encourage him."

Eowyn glared at her brother. "You should not doubt him."

Eomer held up his hands as he chewed on his meat. "I do not doubt his heart." He smiled to the soldiers nearby. "Only the reach of his arm." The other soldiers laughed at that while Eowyn glowered.

"Why should Merry be left behind?" she demanded. "He has much cause to go to war as you and I. Why can he not fight for those he loves?"

Eomer rose to his feet, glaring back at her. "You know as little of war as that Hobbit. When the fear takes him and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee and he would be right to do so."

Susan was on her feet, her face tight with anger as she moved on Eomer. "How dare you?" she hissed. "I saw children younger than Merry fighting a Helm's Deep and they didn't run. Merry has already faced threats you can't imagine, as have I and my brothers. Do not mock his courage or his ability, nor your sister's either. Anyone who wishes to face the hordes of Mordor deserves respect and support."

Peter smiled at the look on Eomer's face. "I'd avoid arguing with her when she's like this. I've learned that one the hard way."

Eomer simply glowered before sitting back down with his men. Eowyn smiled to Susan in gratitude as she headed back into the tent. Peter was checking his sword when a soldier came up to them. "King Peter and Queen Susan? King Theoden requests your presence in his tent."

The two siblings frowned at each other before heading over toward the main tent. The sentries bowed their heads as they passed, entering the flap. Theoden was standing facing a man in an elegant purple robe and hood. "Susan, Peter," Theoden stated. "Allow me to introduce Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell."

The man drew his hood back to reveal a powerful face marked with the pointed ears of an elf, his black hair worn long with a jeweled crown at his brow. Peter and Susan both bowed their heads in greetings to him. The man nodded back. "I have heard of you from the Lady Galadriel," he said in a deep voice. "I am most pleased to finally meet you both."

"The same to you, Lord Elrond." Peter said. "What brings you here?"

"It is a serious matter involving…" The elf broke off as the tent flap opened once more to reveal Aragorn. The man was startled to see Elrond but bowed his head. Theoden nodded to Aragorn. "I take my leave." He walked by Aragorn with a nod.

Peter frowned. "Should we go as well?"

"Stay," Elrond intoned. "If the Lady is correct, you would want to hear this as well." He turned to face Aragorn, his face somber. "I come on behalf of one whom I love. Arwen is dying."

Aragorn was rocked by this. Peter and Susan both remembered that Arwen was the elven woman he loved and realized how this would devastate the man. "She will not long survive the Evil that now spreads from Mordor," Elrond continued. "The light of the evenstar is failing. As Sauron's power grows her strength wanes. Arwen's life is now tied to the fate of the ring." The man's voice was thick with passion while his face was as somber as a statue. While he may not have been attempting to do it, he was a frightening figure as he delivered the message. "The shadow is upon us Aragorn. The end is come."

"It will not be our end, but his," Aragorn said with confidence.

Elrond shook his head "You ride to war, but not to victory. Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith, as you know. But in secret he sends another force, which will attack from the river. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the south. They'll be in the city in two days."

"Damn," Peter whistled. Susan's face was pale with worry. Aragorn was also somber as the elf stepped toward him. "You're outnumbered, Aragorn. You need more men."

Aragorn shook his head. "There are none."

Elrond took a deep breath before speaking carefully. "There…are those who dwell under the mountain."

A cold wind kicked through the tent, blowing at the flames and sending the flaps waving. Peter stated at the flap and then to Susan. "That was not a reassuring sign."

Aragorn stared at the elf in disbelief. "Murderers. Traitors. You would call upon them to fight? They believing in nothing. They answer to no one."

Elrond's face tightened as he brought himself up. "They will answer to _the King of Gondor!"_

With a flourish, he pulled his hands from out of his robe. Held between them was a long scabbard with an elegant hilt at the end. "Andruil, the Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil," Elrond proclaimed as he stepped toward Aragorn. The man stared as he accepted the blade, staring at it almost reverently.

"Sauron will not have forgotten the sword of Elendil," the Ranger said as he grasped the scabbard. In one swift move, he unsheathed a brilliant blade, the silver glinting in the torchlight. It was perfect, covered in elven runes that shimmered even deeper. "The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith," Aragorn remarked.

Elrond nodded. "The man who wields the power of this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth." His face was tight with passion as he gazed at Aragorn. " Put aside the Ranger. Become who you were born to be. Take the Dimholt road."

Aragorn seemed uncertain and Peter felt like speaking up. "Aragorn…Whatever he's saying…if there's a force that can give us any sort of edge against this army, we need it." He stepped forward to face the older man. "I know how you feel. I know the idea of taking a role like this is daunting. But there comes a time when you have to face what's coming. Everyone here…they can see what a leader you can be. It's time you embrace that."

Aragorn was quiet for a moment as Elrond spoke to him in Elvish. Aragorn replied quietly in the same language as he looked downward. With a deep breath, he replaced Andruil into the scabbard and then looped it around his waist. "I shall go."

"Go?" Susan frowned. "Go where?"

Aragorn bowed his head to Elrond before he turned to leave the tent. "To face the dead."

The two siblings exchanged confused looks as Elrond stepped toward them. "One of you must go with him," he intoned. The two looked at him in surprise as he continued. "It was seen by the Lady of the Wood. Your presence has changed much of what was to be but this separation is a greater aid than staying together would have been."

"Tell me," Peter dryly began. "Is being vague and cryptic part of the elf breeding?"

The man smiled slightly and bowed his head. "I must return. My people are preparing for their exodus from this land. And I must see to my daughter." He moved to the tent opening. "Good luck to you all."

As he left, Peter looked to Susan. "One goes, one stays. Flip a coin?"

She smiled softly. "You're better prepared for battles than I am. I'll go with Aragorn." She shook her head. "We keep saying goodbye to one another here."

"Just look forward to saying hello." Peter gave her a strong hug. "We'll handle it, Su. Just keep strong."

She broke the hug and nodded to him. "You see Edmund first…"

"I'll give him a hug and tell him you weren't worried a bit," Peter said, making her smile as she headed out. She quickly went to her tent to get her cloak and her bow and quiver before heading to where Aragorn was. She saw Eowyn walking away from him, apparently upset. Aragorn was leading Brego toward the pathway when Gimli stepped in his path. "Just where do you think you're off to?" the dwarf asked.

Aragorn shook his head. "Not this time. This time, you must stay, Gimli."

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" Legolas asked as he came up with his own horse.

"Or those of elves?" Susan noted as she jointed them. Aragorn opened his mouth but Gimli broke in. "You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie."

Aragorn looked to each and saw the resolve in their eyes. With a tired sigh but also a smile, he mounted Brego, helping Susan up behind him. Legolas mounted his steed with Gimli crawling behind him and the four began to set out toward the dark path.

Their departure was naturally the cause of much concern among the Rohan soldiers, many staring in confusion and growing anxiety. "Why do they leave?" a confused Rider asked. "Why does the Lord Aragorn leave on the eve of battle?"

Gamling's face was hard with disdain. "He leaves because there is no hope."

"He leaves because he must." Everyone turned to see Theoden walking forward, his face strong, looking about as if daring anyone to challenge Aragorn's honor. "He sets off to find those who dwell under the mountain and rally them to our cause."

A low buzz came across the men, many openly fearful with others shaking their heads in disbelief. "If ever they had love for Rohan, it died long ago," one muttered.

Gamling sighed to his ruler. "Sire, too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor."

Theoden took that in before nodding. "No, we cannot. But we will meet them in battle nonetheless." One look at his face silenced any objections as he turned to head to his tent. "Rest now. We ride at dawn's light." The soldiers murmured but still broke off to their tents for a restless night.

Peter was headed to his own tent when he heard a banging sound and a muffled curse from the one nearby. Frowning, Peter slid his head in to see a figure struggling with the armor they were putting on. Smiling, Peter entered. "Need a hand with that?"

The figure let out a gasp as she whirled around to reveal Eowyn, her hair pulled up as she was clad in a small suit that was still unlaced in several places. "My Lady," Peter quickly bowed his head. He frowned as he took in her appearance and then saw the sword laying on her cot. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

She held her head high, her face resolute. "I will not let my people go to war and be prevented from defending my home."

"Your uncle won't approve."

"My uncle need not know." She slid on a helmet, the metallic visor doing a good job covering her feminine features so only one looking closely could tell who she was while only a few strands of hair stuck out from underneath, no different than many of the male warriors.

Peter bit his lip as he stared into her eyes. "There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?" As she shook her head, he took a deep breath. "Kneel."

Eowyn blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Kneel." Unsure, Eowyn did so. Peter slowly unsheathed his sword and held it before him with great ceremony. "As High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, I, King Peter the Magnificent, hereby dub thee, Eowyn of Rohan, as a Knight of Narnia" As her eyes widened, Peter went on. "Do you swear to use your blade in defense of kin and country and to protect the innocent?"

She nodded. "Y…Yes, I do."

"Will you hold to the ideas of honor, truth, justice and protect those in need?"

"I do."

Peter tapped the sword on each of her shoulders. "That is your oath then." He paused and then smacked the flat of the blade on the top of her helmet. Eowyn let out a gasp of pain as Peter smiled slightly. "That…is so you don't forget it." He lowered the sword to offer a hand. "In case, you're found out along the way, you can simply say you are part of my band…Knight Eowyn."

The woman bowed her head. "I…thank you, King Peter." She paused, uncertain. "I…am not of Narnia."

"Technically, neither am I," Peter informed her. "I understand your loyalty is to Rohan and I do not ask you to betray it." He smiled. "But carry with pride that you represent the faith in two rulers when you go to battle."

Eowyn nodded to him. "Thank you, King Peter."

Peter's smile faded a bit. "Wait until we reach Gondor. Your gratitude may fade then." He turned to leave the tent and stared into the sky. In the distance, he could see a glow on the horizon, dawn still hours away. Thus, with a chill, Peter realized the glow of flames were coming from Gondor and felt helpless once more as he considered the darkness they were riding into.


	25. Deathly Paths

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**Deathly Paths**

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As a girl, Susan had read many a story of the frightful paths a fairy tale character would take during an adventure. She'd been through many such herself, both in Narnia and Middle Earth. But the rocky path she followed Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli on gave her more chills than anything she'd experienced before. The path was a thin one through rocky walls that rose high above them. There was daylight but it seemed dimmed, despite the fact there were no clouds in the sky. It was almost as if the sun didn't want to shine in such a desolate area.

Even more foreboding was the utter silence that covered the valley. It had taken Susan some time to fully realize there were no animals of any kind about. No birds, no rabbits or squirrels, not even insects. Just rocks and long-dead trees, their gnarled branches seeming to reach out toward them.

"Is this the right way?" she whispered, her voice echoing in the valley. It was a foolish question, she knew; There was hardly any other direction one could go in the pathway but she felt something was needed to break the silence.

"It is the only path to take," Aragorn said. "Although few would dare to try."

"I can't imagine why," Susan murmured as she looked around. Behind her, Gimli seemed just as worried glancing at the rocky area about them. "What sort of army would linger in a place like this?" he asked.

"One that is cursed," Legolas intoned from his spot ahead of them. "Long ago, the Men of the Mountains swore an oath to the last King of Gondor. To come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came to fight, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they fulfilled their pledge."

"Since when could Isildur perform curses and the like?" Gimli asked. "He was no wizard."

"Righteous anger can produce great things my friend," Aragorn said. "Great and terrible things."

Susan's brow furrowed. "Wait...let me get this straight....we're summoning ghosts? Actual live ghosts?" She grimaced, realizing the term "live" didn't really pertain here.

"You have seen so much here, Susan," Aragorn stated. "Is it so hard to accept ghosts as well?" Upon consideration, Susan had to concede the point.

Legolas was looking around apprehensively now. "Who shall call them from the grey twilight?'" he muttered to himself, recalling something he had heard once. "'The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North he shall come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead.'"

"Well," Susan said with false joviality. "I hope the Forgotten People haven't forgotten how to fight. " The joke went over rather flat as the three men rode on. The path soon became tighter, dead branches covering the view line, forcing the group to dismount and walk ahead, leading their horses on. They finally came to a doorway carved into the rock wall, the sides lined with runes. It took Susan a moment to realize that the carvings on the rock were actually human skulls set inside.

Susan stopped as she stared, her heart clutching in her chest. She couldn't help it, the very sight of this was causing her skin to chill and it had nothing to do with the air around her. The others appeared just as effected, Gimli letting out a sharp breath. "This is an evil place," he whispered. "The very warmth of my blood has been stolen away."

Legolas was leaning closer to study the runes. "The way is shut," he translated. "It was made by the dead. And the dead keep it. The way is shut."

It came as little surprise to Susan that the dead wouldn't want their privacy disturbed. She was peering over Legolas' shoulder when a harsh wind blew out of the doorway. The four shivered, not from cold but from the icy fear that gripped each of them as the wind blew past them. Behind the group, their horses reared up, letting out whinnies of fear before turning and galloping away before their riders could react. Susan bit her lip, contemplating whether they'd be better off just turning back and taking their chances on the battlefield as it was.

Aragorn drew himself up, his sword in his hand. "I do not fear the dead," he declared in a low voice before marching into the doorway, vanishing in the darkness. With a slight smile, Legolas followed him.

Susan looked at Gimli. "I don't suppose you want to just stay out here?"

For a brief moment, Gimli almost looked like he was contemplating it but then shook his head. "This would be a thing unheard of!" he said. "An elf going underground where a dwarf dare not?" He shook his head as he started toward the doorway. "I'd never hear the end of it."

Susan was too chilled to smile as the dwarf moved into the cold doorway. Taking a deep breath, she followed them inside, shivering as the gloom of the black caverns enveloped her.

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For the umpteenth time, Edmund wished someone would provide maps for Minas Tirith. It was getting annoying having to navigate the stone-walled roads and make his way through various buildings to get a sense of where he was. He was emerging near a main pathway when he heard a voice calling out to him. "Edmund!"

Edmund turned to see Pippin racing up to him. The hobbit was clad in a smaller version of a noble uniform, a dark blue tunic over his body with metal sleeves and boots and even a short sword. "How in the world did they find one in your size?" Edmund asked with a smile.

"It was Faramir's when he was a child," Pippin explained, pausing to take a breath. "Never mind that! We have to find Gandalf and Boromir!"

"What's wrong?"

Pippin swallowed. "It's Denethor. He's ordered Faramir to lead a unit and try to retake Osgiliath!"

Edmund's jaw fell open. "What…is he crazy? That whole place is completely overrun! Not to mention they have to cross that massive field to even get to it! Even the entire army of the city couldn't retake it!"

Pippin nodded. "I know but Denethor's ordered it and Faramir's going ahead."

Edmund sucked in his breath before he turned and started to head toward the main road through the city, Pippin on his heels. He came to where a column of men on horses were riding slowly toward the main gates. They were all in brilliant silver armor, all wearing the expressions of men who knew they were about to die. Faramir was in the lead, his face more somber than the others. People were lined on the sides of the road, all downcast at the sight of these men riding past. One soldier leaned over to take a flower offered to her by a little girl.

Edmund burst to the front of the column in front of Faramir. "What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded.

"My father has given our orders," Faramir said in a calm voice. "We must comply."

Edmund shook his head. "Faramir…I know about giving orders, I do. And I know this is war and you have to make hard choices. But this is suicide!" He waved at all the men. "You don't have to go!"

"We are soldiers, Edmund," Faramir said. "We are sworn to do our duty, no matter how we feel."

"You do not have to do this." Gandalf was there, appearing beside Edmund without warning. The young man was startled as the wizard looked to Faramir with a grave face. "Your father's will has turned to madness. Do not throw away your life so rashly."

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?" Faramir shrugged. He motioned around him. "This is the city of the men of Numenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom…"

"And what about her people?" Edmund snapped. "What about Boromir? Where is he anyway?"

"On the far side of the city, looking over our defenses," Faramir said. He paused. "Tell him…tell him he was the better of us both. He is the one who will help our people survive."

"Faramir," Edmund said, grabbing the reins of his horse. "Please, think about this."

He pulled them away. "We have our duties, young Edmund. Tell Boromir and my father I did mine." He marched on with the soldiers behind him.

"Your father loves you, Faramir!" Gandalf called after him. His voice softened. "He will remember that before the end."

Edmund stared at him in disbelief. "Can't you do something? Just…a spell or something?"

"I must conserve my strength for the coming battle," the wizard sadly said. "And Faramir is right. These men are doing their duty."

Edmund shook his head. "No. This isn't duty, it's slaughter." He turned toward the nearest horse, mounting it and turning it up the road toward the palace. Pippin raced over to grab at his leg. "Wait! I need to be there too! Denethor expects me."

Edmund reached to hoist him up before kicking his heels in and sending the horse racing up the road toward the palace. Gandalf watched him go before turning his head to see the column of doomed men march on and shook his head.

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Pippin hadn't known Edmund long but had found him to generally be a quiet sort. So the look of fury on the young man's face struck the hobbit as he raced to keep up. Edmund brushed past the sentries as he stormed down the hallways. Coming to the large double doors leading to the throne room, he shoved them open hard and marched down the long room toward the throne where Denethor sat.

The aged ruler lifted his head and his ever-present scowl deepened as he saw Edmund. Pippin raced in front of the younger man coughing as he bowed his head. "Lord Denethor…I believe I speak for both Edmund and myself when I say…."

"What in the hell are you thinking, old man?!" Edmund demanded, his face flushed.

Pippin swallowed. "All right, I believe I speak only for myself when I say…"

Edmund went on. "You're facing a siege to end all sieges and you send an entire division of men on a suicide mission? One of them your own son?"

"Faramir is not a true son of mine," Denethor spat. "A true son would have brought the ring to me, to aid us in our hour of need."

"Boromir didn't bring the ring either and I don't see him being sent out to die," Edmund fired back.

"He still has need here," Denethor said. "Futile as our defense may be, we must still prepare. If Faramir succeeds, he shall win back my favor."

"Your favor…" Edmund shook his head. "Your sons admire you, sir. They respect you and your command. That's why Faramir is throwing away all common sense to go ahead with this insanity."

The doors opened behind them and Edmund saw some servants enter with plates of food. Rising from his throne, Denethor made his way to the table, sitting at the chair at the far end. He began to dig into the food, tearing at the roasted animal and biting down into it. Edmund stared in disgust at the sight of food running down the man's chin. _You'd think he'd have learned manner in all these years ruling._ He frowned as he moved toward Denethor but the man held up a hand without looking up at him. "I am done with you, child. Leave me be."

Edmund glared but then glanced at the guards at the end of the hall. They appeared struck by Denethor's behavior but something told Edmund they'd be ready to defend their lord if the young man did anything foolish. Biting his tongue, Edmund whirled on his heels and stalked toward the doors. Pippin was about to follow until Denethor spoke. "Stay, hobbit. I have need of you here." Looking like he'd rather be elsewhere, Pippin sighed as he stood to the side.

Edmund shook his head as he angrily as he made his way outside. He saw Gandalf there, gazing at the horizon. "Where's Faramir?"

"On the walls now," Gandalf quietly said. "He needs to see it."

"That's one of us," Edmund said, rubbing his head. "He should have been here, try to talk…"

"He knows the futility of that," Gandalf intoned. "Not just with Denethor but Faramir as well. The man desires to please Denethor as much as he can. Even if it means falling to ruin."

Edmund rubbed at his head. "That man…why can't he see some sense?"

Gandalf took in a long breath. "You are young, my friend. Even when you were an adult, you were young. Age can bring wisdom but it can also bring great hardship and pressure. Under so much pressure, even the most noble of men can break." He shook his head. "We can only hope he may be able to survive what is to come."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Edmund said as he gazed at the horizon. "It's all of us." He didn't have to say he didn't mean just those in the city. Gandalf knew all too well how he was feeling. They stared at the horizon, watching the darkness starting to come closer to the great White City and all who lived there.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Susan hissed as her boot stumbled on a piece of the ground. The path within the caverns was covered in a thick fog that made it impossible to see what was coming. The only way she knew there wasn't a huge hole or something was because the three men were ahead of her. Aragorn led the way, a torch in one hand that allowed further illumination in the passageways. There seemed a light about but Susan couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from. Her bow was in her hands, an arrow nocked in it but that was little comfort to her nerves.

She grimaced as she once again stumbled. "They could have done a better job paving the ground," she hissed, her voice echoing in the cavern walls.

"It is not paving," Legolas said in a grim tone.

Susan frowned as she looked down. She lowered her bow and let it sweep out to blow some of the fog away. Her eyes widened and she let out an involuntary gasp as she saw that the ground wasn't rock at all. It was yard upon yard of skulls strewn together. She swallowed and tried to calm herself as she picked up the pace once more, trying to ignore the crunching under her feet.

"What do you see, elf?" Gimli whispered, his own face drawn.

"I see shapes of men and horses," Legolas replied in that flat tone that was equal parts annoying and yet also soothing for the young woman. "Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise like winter thickets through a shroud of mist."

"Are you…actually seeing this or just waxing poetic?" Susan asked.

Legolas glanced back at her with a drawn face. "The dead are following. They have been summoned."

Gimli and Susan both whirled around as if expecting to see something there. Susan turned back and saw a thin greenish mist flow upward from the ground. It formed a skeletal hand reaching toward Gimli. "Gimli," Susan rasped in a dry voice.

The dwarf turned to see the hand reaching at him and instinctively blew at it. The sight of it dissolving as he kept blowing with pursed lips would have made Susan laugh if the situation wasn't so terrifying. She picked up her pace, grabbing Gimli by the shoulder to pull him along as they raced to catch up to Aragorn and Legolas.

The bearded man led them around a corner and stopped in place, the other following suit. They gazed at a massive chamber, a long stone bridge cutting across the huge chasm that made up most of it. The walls beyond seemed honeycombed with openings that shimmered with odd light, causing Susan's already cold blood to reach freezing temperatures. She forced herself to follow Aragorn as he led them across the bridge, letting his torch fall to the side. They made their way to the end where a large stone castle was embedded in the wall.

"There's malice in the air," Susan breathed and started as she saw her breath coming out in a cloud. "It's not the atmosphere either."

"_Who enters my domain?"_

Even Legolas jumped at the harsh and wicked tone that echoed in the chamber. Flowing out of the castle was a spectral figure that barely resembled a human. What little flesh remained hung on a skeletal frame clad in what would have once been a suit of fine armor, only now cracked at various places. A crown hung around his head and greenish points of light emitted from what had once been eye sockets. His entire body shimmered in green and when he spoke, his rotten teeth were shown clearly. _"Who enters?"_ he repeated.

Aragorn faced the ghost, his expression showing no fear. "One who would have your allegiance," he stated.

The figure sneered. _"The Dead do not suffer the living to pass."_

"You will suffer me!" Aragorn hissed.

Susan coughed. "Um, perhaps some manner of diplomacy is called for here."

The King let out a hideous cackle. As his laugh echoed, the buildings of the chamber glowed brightly and from them emerged hundreds of ghostly figures. Like their King, they resembled men but as skeletons, the remains of armor and weapons hanging on their greenish forms. They flowed ahead, right over the open chasm as they surrounded the quartet.

"_The way is shut," _the King hissed. _"It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it." _Around him, the ghostly warriors came closer, their faces in hideous smiles and expressions of hate. _"The way is shut. Now you must die!"_

"This was inevitable," Susan said before she could realize it.

Legolas lifted his bow and fired an arrow out. It flew right through the King's forehead with no effect. Susan had to roll her eyes at the elf. "They're already dead, how much good was that going to do?"

Aragorn stepped forward, his sword unsheathed. "I summon you to fulfill your oath!"

A sword had appeared in the King's hand as he marched forward (an odd sight as he apparently had no feet). _"None but the King of Gondor may command me!"_

He lunged forward, his blade striking out only to meet Anduril. There was a clash of steel as Aragorn stood his ground. Susan was startled, not expecting the blade to be able to block the weapon of a supernatural being but was grateful for it.

The King appeared stunned at the surprise block. His greenish eyes fell upon the blade and the sockets widened. _"That blade was broken!"_

"It has been remade," Aragorn hissed as his arm snaked out with quick speed. It grasped the King by the throat, holding him fast. Again, the King appeared shocked at being touched. Aragorn threw him back, standing tall and truly regal as he gazed at the stunned specters around him. "I am Isildur's heir. Fight for us and regain your honor. What say you?"

Dead silence answered him as the Dead gazed at them. "What say you?" Aragorn repeated.

Gimli snorted. "Ach, you waste your breath, Aragorn. They had no honor in life, they have none now in death!"

"Even when it can help them," Susan added. She gazed at the men, feeling her courage build at realizing they weren't untouchable. "What have you to gain in refusing? You're just going to stay here under this mountain for the rest of eternity? What good is that going to do you?" She pointed at Aragorn. "He can free you! He can end this state for you! Listen to him!"

Aragorn turned about, his sword pointed at the forms around him. "You have my word! Fight and I will hold your oaths fulfilled. I will release you from this living death!" He stepped forward. "What say you?"

A long silence filled the cavern. Then, the King's lips turned upward as he let out a long and boisterous laugh. Slowly, he and the soldiers around him began to vanish away. "Stand, you traitors!" Gimli yelled but the Dead vanished away. A rumble filled the cavern as the castle ahead of them began to collapse. Hundreds of skulls flowed out of it, cascading to the ground in a harsh tidal wave. "Out!" Aragorn yelled as he leapt toward it. Legolas, Gimli and Susan followed him, scampering up the growing hill of skulls. Susan yelled as she lost her grip and began to slide down the hill. Legolas managed to grab her arm and help her back up as they reached the top, sliding down toward an exit.

Susan gasped out loud as she raced toward that exit, doing her best to keep up with the others. She saw a crack of daylight ahead and picked up her pace as they ran past a column and found themselves in open daylight.

Susan bent over, gasping for breath as she waited for her heart to stop beating. "That…was quite…the experience," she managed to get out. "Nice to learn…the exit was so close…the entire bloody time…" She became aware no one was answering and stood up to see Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli gazing outward. Her gaze followed and her eyes went wide with horror once more.

Below them, a mile away, was a river that held a fleet of black ships. They made their way slowly down the water as beyond them, a town burned hard against the water. "Oh, God," Susan whispered as she realized these were the black ships of pirates Elrond had spoken of.

Aragorn collapsed to his knees as he gazed at the fleet, the weight of it all pressing on him. Legolas came up behind him as Gimli shook his head. "Even with Rohan aiding, the city can't stand to more reinforcements."

"So…that's it?" Susan asked in a blank tone. "We just…go back and wait to get killed?"

"What else can we do?" Legolas asked as he put a hand to Aragorn's shoulder.

Susan wiped at her face. "We go back then. We go back and fight as much as we can. As long as we can, no matter what."

"For death and glory?" Aragorn asked in a flat voice.

"For those we love," Susan answered.

A shivering wind blew behind them and they all turned to see the King of the Dead emerge from the wall. "What now?" Susan snapped, her fear replaced by anger at the figure. "You want a front row seat for the slaughter? Or you want to make sure all the people who are going to die don't try to steal your home?"

The King looked at her and his lips curled upward as if showing respect for her spirit. He then faced Aragorn and spoke in a strong and proud voice.

"_We fight."_

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**Apologies for the long delay, hopefully not as long before next part. **


	26. The Long Night Falls

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**The Long Night Falls**

**Yes, finally getting to an update at last, sorry about the delays. **

* * *

The quartet on the docks was hardly the grouping that could cause terror to clutch a man's breast. A lone man, an elf, a dwarf and a teenaged girl, all looking a bit dirty and the worse for wear. The fact that all four bore somber expressions did little to intimidate the pirates as the lead ship in their fleet came toward the docks. The captain, a tattooed man in dark hair and light leather, rose to his feet to stare at the four.

Aragorn's face was flat as he called out. "You shall go no further. You will not enter Gondor."

The boson scowled at him as the other mercenaries gazed with amusement at the four. "Who are you to deny us passage?"

"Legolas," Aragorn stated. "Fire a warning shot past his ear."

The elf pulled an arrow from his quiver and carefully raised his bow. Gimli leaned in to murmur. "Mind your aim." Legolas glared at him before drawing his bowstring back. Just as he was about to let it go, Gimli tapped the handle of his axe on the bow. As such, the shot went wide, swinging just past the boson and nailing a mercenary unfortunate enough to be standing behind him right in the chest.

Susan stared open-mouthed at the dwarf who at least had the dignity to cover his mouth in surprise. To his credit, he covered it quickly by booming out. "That's it! We warned you! Prepare to be boarded!"

The mercenaries broke out in uproarious laughter, a few holding their sides. "Somehow, I don't think they're shaking in their boots," Susan remarked. "Well, not with fear at any rate."

"Boarded?" the captain laughed. "By you and what army?"

Susan raised an eyebrow. "He did not actually give such an opening."

Aragorn allowed a slight smirk to come to his face as he spoke. "This army."

The pirates on the ships were, to a man, the most ruthless cutthroats, murderers, scavengers and warriors imaginable. The least among them had committed enough crimes to merit hanging a hundred times over. They had pillaged innocent villages, slaughtering women and children with no qualms whatsoever. Their hearts were hardened to the point where fear was nearly squeezed out of them utterly.

But the sight of an army of greenish figure materializing out of thin air, running over the water to no effect, letting out howls like banshees, was enough to cause every one of the pirates to scream in terror. They tried to strike out but their weapons passed through the spirits with no effect, slashing through thin air. The Dead's weapons, however, were more than effective on living flesh.

Susan couldn't help but turn away at the sight. Even knowing what ruthless killers these men were, the sight of them cut up and torn apart by the Dead was disturbing. She took a deep breath as she glanced toward Aragorn. "How long until we get to Gondor?"

"A day if the winds are on our side," he stated. "We must leave at once."

Susan winced as she saw what was left of one pirate flying over the bow into the water. "I might suggest a bit of clean-up first."

* * *

Edmund had the most uncomfortable sense of déjà vu as he stood on the top level of Minas Tirith, staring over the walls. Marching across the fields was a force of orcs ten times greater than the horde at Helm's Deep. Not only were there troops but also massive siege towers, catapults, rams and more machines of war, all headed straight toward the walls. It would still be a bit before they could get in range but the fear of their very presence was clutching the entire city.

He could see the fear in the soldiers as he walked over the ramparts. Most managed to hide it but others seemed ready to break and run at any moment. Edmund did his best to give them reassuring looks that hid his own terror.

He was about to walk back to meet Boromir at the nearby towers when a commotion got his attention. Looking over the edge of the stone bridge he was on, he stared at the gates opening to bring in a lone horse. The steed was dragging behind a figure, its armor battered and pierced in a few places, his helmet off to show his strong and handsome face.

"Faramir," Edmund whispered. He took off on a run as men raced to the injured warrior's side. A stretcher was soon put together to carry him up the wide roads toward the highest level of the city. Edmund could hear the moans of the men around him, the sight of Faramir fallen making their despair grow even further. He pushed it to the back of his mind as he followed the litter.

He was coming up toward the large square by the White Tree as Boromir raced from a side path, his face grave at the sight of his brother. Denethor hurried out of the palace, his attendants following. "Faramir!" he moaned. "Tell me he has not fallen?"

"What did you expect?" Edmund blurted out before he could stop himself. "You sent him out on a suicide run!" He was ready to say more but a glare from Gandalf stopped him. Edmund hadn't even seen the wizard approach, he was just there.

Denethor knelt by Faramir, his face racked with pain and anguish. "My son," he moaned. "My son…My sons are spent!" Boromir stared in disbelief at that but his father was too crazed to pay attention. "My line has ended!" He rose to his feet, staring out at the coming army.

Pippin moved to examine Faramir. "He still lives! My lord, he still lives! We need to get him to a healer!"

"Get a healer!" Boromir cried out. He looked up at his father. "Father, he can be saved still!"

His words fell on deaf ears as Denethor stared over the edge at the coming army. "My city is ruined! Rohan has deserted us!"

"Oh, he's snapped," Edmund muttered under his breath as he saw the man shaking.

A whistling sound filled the air and a rock smashed into a building several levels below, sending concrete debris onto the people underneath.

"Theoden has betrayed us!" Denethor was literally frothing at the mouth at this point. He moved forward and began to call out. "Flee! Abandon your posts! Flee for-----"

The rest of his words were cut off as a hand grasped his shoulder and whirled him around. Denethor was able to just recognize Edmund before the young man's fist flew up to smash into his face. He gasped as Edmund shoved him back, lying stunned on the ground. The young man looked up at the others, shaking after his impulsive action. He prepared himself for angry reactions from Boromir and Gandalf. Instead, the wizard appeared to be just holding back a smile while Boromir had an expression as if thanking Edmund for doing something he couldn't.

Gandalf turned to face Boromir and nodded. "Prepare for battle!"

* * *

Peter took a sip from the flask of water as he sat on the small rock. The entire garrison of troops were taking a brief break during their march, men tending to horses and food. He glanced to where Eowyn stood nearby. Her helmet was off but with her face marked with some dirt to hide her features, her long hair was no different than some of the other soldiers about, no one took notice of her.

"It looks like we'll be moving on soon," Peter noted. "You'd best get your helmet back on."

Eowyn nodded as she picked it up and slid it back on. She looked to Merry, who stood with a downcast expression. "Take heart, Merry. It will soon be over."

The young hobbit looked up at her. "My lady. You are fair and brave and have much to live for and many who love you." He looked over toward Peter. "It is much the same with you, Peter. I know it is too late to turn aside. I know there is not much point now in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan capable of great deeds…but I'm not." He lowered his head. " I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle Earth. I just want to help my friends. Frodo, Sam, Pippin. More than anything I wish I could see them again."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Peter looking down at him with a proud expression. "Your size may be small, Merry. But I know quite a few men in England and Narnia who can only dream of having a heart as large as yours. Hold to that and you'll find a strength that can astound you."

Merry smiled back warmly, heartened by Peter's words. The young man was about to speak more when they heard Eomer's voice booming from nearby. "Our scouts report Gondor is under siege! We must make way!" Immediately, soldiers began to move to pack up their gear and prepare their horses. Eowyn quickly put her helmet back on to hide her appearance as Merry moved to join her at her horse.

Peter got onto his own horse, riding it up to where Théoden's steed not far away. The king had his helmet on as he studied his troops, obviously worried. Peter wanted to give him more encouragement but wasn't sure he had anything left he hadn't already said. He was preparing his best words when the sound of a horde of horses coming forward filled the small valley.

The soldiers were quick to respond with swords and spears raised. Several formed a protective circle around the king while others in the rear made way to fight off any enemies that might come from behind. Peter gripped his sword as the horses rode over a ridge and their riders came into view.

A murmur of surprise and excitement went up among the troops as they recognized the unique armor and appearance of elven soldiers. There were nearly two hundred of them, each loaded for bear with the usual stern expressions of their race. Peter recognized Haldir at the front, the captain's long blond hair showing in the daylight. He pulled his horse up and bowed his head to Theoden. "Good King Theoden. Glad we are to meet you once more."

The king stared about in wonder at the forces. "Wh…I had thought you had left our lands."

"Most have," Haldir confirmed. "But there are many among us who do not wish to abandon this land to the Enemy and his dark forces." He motioned to the soldiers behind him. "These men all volunteered to stay behind, to fight alongside your men in defense of all."

Theoden managed to keep his mouth from falling open too much. "I…I am moved and honored beyond measure, sir. We are more than willing to welcome your numbers!"

Peter shook his own head. "I…I don't know much of elves but I know this exodus means a lot to you." He frowned. "You…know the odds against us."

Haldir nodded, his smile fading. "We are aware. And we have decided it would be better dying to defend this land than live centuries on with the knowledge we could have fought but instead abandoned man to a horrid fate." He looked over the human soldiers and brought himself up in his saddle. "More will meet us on the way. We shall fight with all our strength and against whatever shall come, we will meet our fate with pride."

Theoden made a proud nod, his face now in a hopeful smile. "Then let us ride together and make this an end worth remembering." Haldir returned the nod as the two men began to move their horses forward. The rest of the soldiers soon fell in, elves and men riding together and prepared to join in what may well be the last battle of the land.

* * *

The debris of a catapult strike flew over Edmund's head as he raced across a battlement, following Boromir. The two had raced their horses down the pathways, urging the soldiers back to their posts. Boromir was moving quickly, his sword out as he scanned over the forces below. Edmund could see another catapult launching, sending a series of smaller objects flying toward the city. Edmund steeled himself, prepared to duck more rocks. Instead, splatting sounds echoed as the objects hit the ground.

Edmund looked down and let out an involuntary yell as he saw the severed head of a Gondor soldier, his eyes open and face frozen in terror and pain, his helmet still on his head. Edmund jumped back from the grisly object as he glanced over to Boromir. The elder man's face was drawn but serious as he saw how the troops on the wall were affected by the appearance of their dead comrades. Edmund realized that while they may not be long on intelligence, the orcs did have a surprising understanding of psychological warfare.

"Hold fast!" Boromir yelled out. He pointed toward men nearby. "Load the catapults!" Soldiers were quick to join in, placing rubble from the fallen towers into the catapults.

Gandalf stood nearby, glaring at the forces. "Send these foul beasts into the abyss!"

"Fire at will!" Boromir cried out and at his command, the catapults began to release themselves across the city. Boulders and rocks flew outward to smash into the horde of the orc troops, the distance adding to their weight. Some crushed packs of orcs flat while others rolled around to smash whole divisions. The orcs weren't stopping however, firing off more of their catapults, now aimed at the walls. Edmund leaped back as only a few yards away, a section of the wall was blasted apart, sending soldiers back.

Boromir waved his sword to order the catapults to keep firing. Edmund snuck a peek over the wall to see several massive towers being pushed forward by giant trolls. He could see behind the armored gates of each tower hordes of orcs ready for battle. "Aim for the towers!" he yelled out.

A group of soldiers were quick to adjust their catapult and fired off a shot, the boulder flying perfectly to strike the tower at the very top. It collapsed on itself, sending the bodies of orcs flying down onto the ground below.

Edmund's smile was cut off by a shrieking sound that echoed through the air. It didn't just affect his hearing; rather, it felt like it was striking at his very soul. He gazed up to see a trio of lizard-like creatures flying overhead, each carrying a figure in black robes. From the descriptions, he knew these had to be the Nazgul.

With those inhuman shrieks, the creatures dived down, their massive claws striking out to smash catapults apart. A few lashed out to grab troops in their claws, carrying them high above the city before letting them drop, their screams echoing in the air as they fell. Edmund saw one Nazgul smash a few troops off a bridge. This one's rider was different, wearing a silver helmet over his robe with metallic gloves. "Who is that?" he asked Gandalf.

The wizard's face was tight with worry. "The Witch King of Angmar. The Lord of the Nazgul."

"Their commander, all right," Edmund nodded. "We'll have to take him down first."

"That may not be easy," Gandalf said. "It is said no man can kill him."

Edmund snorted. "I've heard that one before. We can always test the theory."

"Later," Gandalf hissed as he turned to see the towers coming closer. "Aim at the trolls!" he yelled. "Not the towers, the trolls!" Archers on the wall were quick to obey, firing their arrows at the creatures pushing the towers. One went down but it wasn't enough as the tower reached the wall, its spiked gate slamming down hard. Instantly, hordes of orcs erupted outward, swords swinging at the wall's defenders. Edmund could see other towers beginning to reach the wall as well and a distance away, Boromir was leading the charge to push some of the invaders back.

Edmund brought his attention to the tower occupants nearest to him. He charged in to cut down an orc that was about to strike a soldier down, then swinging to slice another's throat. He realized he had no shortage of targets as the walls became home to scores of hand-to-hand battles between men and the monsters.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edmund saw Gandalf moving like a man decades younger. The white staff whirled about to smack orcs left and right as Gandalf spun to cut others down with his sword. Edmund wondered why he didn't just conjure some fireballs but was a bit too busy to press the issue.

Gandalf saw Pippin nearby and growled. "Perrigrin Took! Get back to the Citadel! This is no place for a hobbit!" He turned back to smack another trio of orcs with his staff. One creature began to lunge at him and with a cry, Pippin raced in to stab at it with his short sword. The orc gasped, more in surprise than in pain before falling back.

Gandalf looked at the hobbit, who stared at his blade in shock and chuckled. "Guard of the Citadel indeed." He turned back to the battle as Pippin backed away.

Edmund kept his guard up, slicing down attacking orcs and aiding other soldiers where he could. The Gondorians had the advantage of being able to press back, archers cutting down orcs on the towers as the remaining catapults targeted them with rocks, smashing a few apart. The orcs kept coming however, as their hordes on the ground charged at the city gates. Edmund could hear the echoes of a ram used on the steel doors but they seemed to be holding well.

"Push them back!" he heard Boromir cry out. "For your homes and lives, drive them away!" The man seemed charged at the battle, the anger and pain at Faramir's injuries driving him on as he sliced into the orcs with ferocity. It rubbed off on the soldiers around him as they too began to drive the orcs away, sending one dark body after another flying off the city walls to the ground below.

Minutes seemed to pass but Edmund eventually realized that night was falling. The orcs on the wall had been mostly pressed back, although a few had managed to escape into the city with soldiers chasing after them. Edmund moved to the wall, wiping sweat from his brow as he peered over the edge, mindful of any orc archers. He could see the orcs at the gate backing away, the doors still holding fast. Any hope he had, however, was dashed at a chanting sound from the army.

"_Grond….Grond…Grond!"_

The columns of orcs parted to show a massive ram being brought forward. It was nearly fifty feet long and at least ten feet solid and wide, held up by a huge apparatus. The front of the ram was carved in the shape of a wolf's head with huge jaws wide open. At a command, torches were lit in the two eyeholes as well as inside the mouth. The orcs pulled back on the heavy chains to send the flaming wolf-head smashing into the gates, which buckled underneath the weight. The orcs cheered and cried out the name louder with each thrust forward.

"_GROND! GROND! GROND!"_

Boromir had joined Edmund, both staring at the flaming ram as it went on the attack. Edmund slowly turned his head to stare at the older man, more bemused than afraid. "It's bad enough they're murderous monsters…but do they have to make a bloody _production_ out of everything?"

* * *

**Again, apologies for the long delay, hope not as long before the next chapter. **


	27. The Fields of Blood and Sorrow

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**The Fields of Blood and Sorrow**

**

* * *

**

The first peeks of dawn were coming but no one in Gondor was appreciating the sight. The hordes of orcs were preparing for the final push into the city as the massive battering ram Grond smashed into the doors. In the courtyard stood hundreds of troops, holding up spears and swords, many with looks of fear on their faces. Boromir stood with them, his sword held up as he looked about, taking in the apprehension around him and knowing he had to do something.

"You are soldiers of Gondor!" he called out. "Whatever comes through those doors, you shall meet it with the full strength and courage of your forefathers! Stand your ground!" His words seemed to strengthen the men around him as they saw the wooden doors start to bend inward.

Edmund was at the ramparts over the courtyard, still trying to help organize the defenses around the city. He glanced down to see the massive battering ram smash through the doors, flames igniting from its mouth. The soldiers moved back as a squad of giant trolls marched in, bearing huge maces. "Volley!" Boromir cried out as archers fired arrows at the trolls, bringing one down but another swept out its arm to send troops flying. The lead soldiers lowered their spears to attack as a horde of orcs raced through the doors and the battle began. Edmund glanced up to see another tower lowering its gate on the wall to disembark another squad of orcs. "Hold them back!" he yelled although he knew it was futile. The Gondorians were doing their best but were hopelessly outnumbered as the orc army still marched upon the city. He instinctively ducked as a fireball streaked over his head and hit a tower nearby, sending a pile of debris falling to the ground. He got back up as he sliced an orc down and then stabbed another. The battle was clearly not going well even as he heard a loud yelling from behind. "Gandalf! Gandalf!"

Edmund turned to see Pippin racing about, his face frantic. "Get back to the Citadel!" he yelled at the Hobbit. "This is no place for you!"

"I need to find Gandalf!" Pippin cried out. "It's Faramir! Denethor is going to burn him alive."

Edmund stopped in place. "He…what?"

Pippin swallowed. "He thinks the man's dead, he's moaning about how this is the end and wants to go out in a blaze of glory! Literally!"

"Oh, this is too much," Edmund moaned as he turned back to the courtyard. He saw the defenders falling back as armored bodies lay scattered about. Boromir and Gandalf were moving back with the other troops, the wizard calling out. "Retreat! The city is breached! Get the women and children to safety and retreat!"

"Fight on!" Boromir added. "Fight to the last man!" The soldiers began to move out as the orc forces poured through the broken gates. Most of the civilians had already fled to the highest levels, where shelters had been set up but some had remained and Edmund could hear the screams of the unfortunate caught in the orcs' murderous path. He and Pippin managed to get through to where Gandalf still sat on Shadowfax, his staff raised as he tried to rally the troops. "Gandalf!" Pippin cried out. The wizard looked down as the hobbit came up to him. "Denethor has lost his mind! He wants to burn Faramir alive!"

Edmund automatically looked over to where Boromir was but the man was too busy leading the running defense to hear Pippin's words. Gandalf didn't bother speaking but simply reached down to pull Pippin up onto the horse. Edmund was quick to join, climbing on behind him. With a digging of the heels, Gandalf sent Shadowfax racing up the streets, past the fighting soldiers and to the upper levels. They were coming out of a tunnel when a dark shadow fell upon them. Gandalf reigned up his steed as a massive Fell Beast landed upon the balcony before them. Sitting atop it was the dark robed form of the figure Edmund recognized as the Witch King. Pippin let out a cry and Edmund couldn't help but shrink back as he felt the waves of pure evil rolling off the creature before him.

For his part, Gandalf showed no fear as he raised his staff before him. "Go back to the abyss!" he hissed. "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"

The Witch King's face was hidden in its hood but its voice had a mocking tone, deep but also lined with ice. "_Do you not know death when you see it, old man_?" He lifted up his sword, the blade igniting into fire in the morning light. _"This is _my _hour!" _He threw the blade out in a wave and Gandalf's staff buckled before shattering into a thousand pieces as Saurman's had done a few days before. The wizard gasped in surprise as he fell back, knocking Edmund and Pippin off the horse with him. The Beast moved in, its maw opening and hissing out, spittle flying at the Wizard._"You have failed,"_ the Witch King boasted with triumph. "_The world of men will fall."_

Edmund tried to rise up and reach for his sword as the Witch King raised his blade high. Just as he was about to bring it down, a loud horn echoed in the air. He froze in confusion as another horn blew and another. The crowned hood turned to gaze outward at the distance. It glanced back at Gandalf, then pulled back on the reins in his hands. With a roar, the Fell Beast flew upward into the sky. Edmund blinked in confusion before gazing out to the horizon. Far in the distance, across the fields, a long line of figures could be seen riding forward as the sun shone bright behind them.

The Rohirrim had come.

* * *

Sitting astride a horse, staring across a field at an army of creatures that outnumbered them by a massive number, it was all too familiar to Peter. He looked over down the line of horses that had formed into large columns. There were looks of shock and fear as they fully took in the seemingly endless number of orcs and war machines lined around Gondor. Even the elves seemed thrown but did their best to remain impassive.

Looking to his right, Peter saw Eowyn sitting astride her horse, Merry sitting before her, the hobbit's face filled with fear. "Courage, Merry," she whispered to him. "Courage for our friends."

Theoden had ridden his steed a few yards before his men to take in the battlefield. Even after Helm's Deep, the sight of so many dark forces in one place gave him pause but he steadied himself as he turned. "Eomer, take your men down the left flank," he barked. As his nephew rode off, the king turned to another soldier. "Gamling! Follow the king's banner down the centre. Gimbold! Take your company right after you pass the wall. Peter!" The young man straightened as Theoden turned to him. "You shall aid the elves in protecting our rear and far flanks!" The young man nodded as the king began to ride his horse down the line, shouting as he did.

"Arise! Arise riders of Theoden!" As he passed by her, Eowyn turned her head away, afraid he might recognize her but Theoden was lost in the emotion of the moment. "Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sword day! A red Day! _Ere the sun rises!"_

The front column lowered their spears to point outward. Peter moved to the side with one of the elf divisions, seeing Haldir at the far side with his own men. Peter swallowed as he unsheathed his sword, adjusting his helmet one more time. He watched as Theoden rode down the line of soldiers, his sword raised to run along their spears, the echo of banging washing like the opening pearls of thunder. "Ride now!" he called out. "Ride now! Ride to ruin! And the World's ending! DEATH!"

_"DEATH!"_ His men answered back.

"DEATH!"

"_DEATH!"_

"DEATH!"

_"DEATH!" _Merry and Eowyn joined in the cry, along with a few elves.

_"LIFE!"_ Peter cried out. It was lost in the cheers but he just didn't feel like going into battle with such a fatalistic attitude. Even if death did seem certain, he didn't want to invite more.

"_Forth Eorlingas!" _Theoden cried out. Throughout the columns of soldiers, horns were blown, their call echoing for miles in all directions as the sun fully rose, gleaming off Théoden's sword as he waved it forward and led his army into the fray.

From the walls of the city, it was a sight to behold, one deserving praise in songs and stories for generations to come. Thousands of horses engaging in a wild charge down the hill and into the Fields, the dust of their hooves flowing across the ground behind them. The orcs were prepared, firing off arrows at the charging horses, several steeds going down with their riders. But far, far more kept on coming, letting out cries and strong howls as they headed toward the orc lines. For the first time, fear washed over the dark forces of Mordor as they saw the charging force coming closer right before it slammed into their front lines. Swords and spears swung about, slashing down orcs left and right as the cavalry poured through the lines, like sunlight cutting through the darkness and lifting the hopes of those around them.

* * *

The arrival of reinforcements was the last thing on Edmund's mind at the moment as he held tight to Pippin atop Shadowfax. Gandalf has recovered from the Witch King's attack enough to spur the horse onward, sending his steed racing to the top of the White Tower. The wizard refused to pause before the doors and his faithful horse went along with it, smashing into the wooden doors with great strength.

The interior of the chamber was typical for a tomb, the marble coffins of past rulers in separate shelves on the sides, the marble floor truly elegant. Denethor stood atop a platform at the middle, drenched from head to toe. Edmund briefly wondered why he was bothering to take a bath at a time like this but then caught the scent of kerosene. Guards stood with lit torches near the wooden pyre erected around their ruler. Faramir lay on his makeshift stretcher, seemingly unconscious and unaware of what his father was about to do.

"Stay this madness!" Gandalf cried out as they charged in.

Denethor scowled as he grabbed a torch from a soldier. "You may triumph in the field of battle this day," he spat. "But against the power that has risen in the East, there is no victory!" Any doubts Edmund had in the man's sanity were dashed as it was clear Denethor's mind had passed the point of no return. Yet it still came as a shock when the man dropped the torch on top of the wooden pile, igniting the oil upon it.

Edmund was moving fast, racing to grab at Faramir's body. "No!" Denethor gasped. "You will not take my son from me!" He threw himself at Edmund, his hands extended like claws. The younger man gasped as he tried to hold the mad Steward back, Denethor's face like an animal snarling at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Edmund could see Pippin manage to roll Faramir off the pyre and onto the floor, racing to put out the flames on the man's pants.

Edmund got to his feet, pulling Denethor up. "For God's sakes, will you calm down already?" he snapped. Denethor hit him with a punch, Edmund startled at its strength and taken off-guard. Denethor grabbed at Edmund, intent on throwing him onto the burning pyre. The whinny of a horse caught his attention and he looked up to see Shadowfax lunge at him. Startled, Denethor let go of Edmund, falling back onto the pyre, the fire igniting the oil on his body.

Edmund moved toward him but Pippin grabbed his coat. "No, you'll catch fire too!"

"…Father…" All three looked down to see Faramir's eyes open, staring in confusion at what happened. Denethor stared back and for one brief moment, reason returned to his features, his eyes actually filled with love for his son. Then, the fire reached the oil upon his long hair and like a match to gunpowder, it erupted.

Edmund grabbed Pippin, yanking him out of the way as Denethor raced past them, screaming in agony as the flames engulfed him. Gandalf's face was somber as he watched, Edmund brushing past him to chase the older man. The flames appeared to have given Denethor speed as he ran across the courtyard, to the edge of the Tower and without hesitation leaped off the parapet. Edmund held back from the edge, staring down at the sight of the burning body flying toward the ground, a trail of flame left in mid-air and the screams of the dying ruler echoing throughout the White City.

Edmund stared down in utter disbelief. Whatever problems Denethor may have had, he didn't deserve to die in such a way. Edmund was now grateful Boromir was far too busy to see his father's fate, a sight no son needed. He swallowed as he backed up and watched the battle continue far below. Something caught his eye and he looked to the horizon for a sight that made his blood go cold as he realized the forces of man weren't the only ones who had reinforcements on their side.

* * *

The battle was even more intense than Peter had expected. There was no shortage of targets for him as for every orc he killed, ten more seemed to appear. He was more grateful than ever for his years horse-riding in Narnia. When one is used to handling a talking horse, managing a regular one was no problem. He kept his horse going as he slashed away, cutting down another attacking orc, twisting his mount to avoid a spear strike. He managed to pause and look around to see the field of battle strewn with the bodies of orcs. The Rohirrim had taken full advantage of their charge to break the orc lines and the addition of the elves also aided their assault. While he'd learned a long time ago not to be too confident, Peter felt his hopes rise as he continued to fight on.

"Advance!" Eomer called out from his horse. "Drive them to the river!" Many of his men followed his lead, pushing their opponents back further. "Make safe the city!" Theoden cried out. "Haldir, prepare to take your men to…" He stopped as he looked to the horizon and his face went pale.

Turning his horse, Peter looked in that direction as the sound of horns blew, these a far darker tone than the Rohirrim's. Marching down the field was a pack of creatures that basically resembled elephants, only twenty times larger than Peter could imagine. Their massive tusks were lined with what appeared to be barbed wire strewn between them and spikes attached. Atop each one was a carrier of men in dark uniforms armed to the teeth. There was a cry of joy from the orcs as they saw the new forces arrive on the scene.

"Oh, bloody hell," Peter groaned. "Why can nothing in this world ever be easy?"

Theoden set his jaw as he turned to his men. "Reform the lines! Reform the lines!" The Rohirrim got over their sudden horror to set themselves into their formation. "Take them head-on!" Theoden cried out. "Sound the charge!" With a loud yell, he set his horse forward, his men following with loud cries as they charged forward, intent on taking on this new force with the same fury as they had attacked the orc lines.

Sadly, the strategy that worked well against orcs on the ground had limited affect on such massive beasts as the Haradim forces. At the commands of their riders, the Mumakil swung their tusks out, the spike-laden protrusions slamming through the first wave of riders, sending men and horses scattering in all directions. Peter winced as he saw one rider stuck right on one of the spikes, flaying about as the beast swung his head about. Peter pulled his horse to the side to avoid the tusks, ducking right under one of the mumakil. The field was once more alive with chaos, the beasts charging in as the soldier riding atop them fired arrows at the riders below.

They weren't the only archers around, however. As Peter rode back into daylight, he saw one beast rearing back under a slew of arrows, several soldiers falling off its liter. Haldir was on his feet nearby, commanding a score of elves to fire at the Mumakil, forcing the beast to one knee. But it was only one of many, with the rest openly crushing the Rohirrim forces.

Peter saw Eowyn riding nearby, Merry hanging on to the horse's mane for dear life. "With me!" he cried out as he rode toward one of the beasts. Eowyn didn't question him but rode quickly to catch up to his horse. Peter dodged past a tusk strike to ride under one of the Mumakil. "You take the right!" he yelled as he held up his sword. Eowyn instantly understood what he was doing, moving her horse to that side. Peter held his sword out as he raced by, swinging to slice it at the back of the two legs on the left side of the beast. Eowyn repeated the process on the right side and they were rewarded with an unholy bellow as the beast reacted to their strikes. The two raced out from underneath just as the Mumakil collapsed forward, its litter bouncing about to send its passengers flying to the ground.

Peter could see Eomer throwing a spear at the head of one Mumakil, his aim perfect as it pierced the man holding its reins. Slumping, the dead Haradrim pulled on the reins, causing the beast to turn and crash into another Mumakil, the pair going down in a huge heap with more soldier falling in various directions. Peter let a grin come to his face as he felt his hopes rising once more, realizing these things weren't invincible. That grin died when he saw one of the creatures rise up on its back legs and then come down hard, its front hooves smashing into the column of elves. "Haldir!" Peter yelled out as he spurred his horse toward them, the Mumakil marching on.

Peter came to the area the elves had fallen, dismounting to move among them, trying to hold in his stomach at the remains of the ones crushed under the hooves. He saw a familiar flash of blonde hair and moved forward, pushing a corpse aside to show Haldir. The elven warrior lay on his back, blood at his lips, a broken spear stuck into his breastplate. "Oh, damn," Peter whispered. "Hang on, we'll get you some help!"

"No…" the elf choked out. "No time…nothing…to be done…" He coughed suddenly, some blood spitting up but managing to smile at Peter. "Your brother…saved me…at Helm's Deep….Perhaps it is fitting…I leave this life…with another of your family…"

"You're not going anywhere," Peter insisted, trying to figure a way to bind the wound.

Haldir shook his head. "It is all right. Our time in this land…was ending anyway…" He saw the pain in Peter's face. "It was…our choice…We knew…we would not return…But for you…for man…you are worth dying for…" He seemed ready to say more but coughed up more blood and then lay still.

Peter closed his eyes, feeling the pain of the elf's loss. He looked up to see the battle continue, more of the orc army heading toward the White City as the Rohirrim fought a losing battle on the fields. He took a deep breath as he got to his feet, hefting his sword. "If this is our end…" he softly said. "Let us make it one to remember." With that, he charged into the field, prepared to take as many of these monsters with him as he could.

* * *

Atop the ramparts, in the stone pathway leading to the main palace of the city, the last vestiges of resistance did their best to stand strong. The wooden doors were buckling under the smashing of the troll on the other side, ready to smash inward and lead the army of orcs into the final level of the city. Boromir was overseeing the soldiers throwing everything they could get their hands on to brace the door but it was clear it wouldn't last long. He moved over to where Gandalf sat at one side, surprisingly calm given the circumstances. Edmund and Pippin were more worried, each gripping their swords tightly. "Where is Faramir?" Boromir asked with concern.

"They took him to that hall on the side with the other wounded," Pippin said in a dull tone.

"And my father?"

The boy and the hobbit exchanged a solemn look, neither wanting to have to be the one to explain what had happened. "What is it?" Boromir asked, seeing their faces.

Edmund swallowed. "He…He's dead, Boromir. I'm sorry but…" He trailed off, hoping the man wouldn't go into details. Boromir stared, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he processed it. Opening them, he rubbed his head. "We…don't have long before they breach. We've gotten as many of the civilians to safety as we could but…" He didn't have to finish as the banging on the door grew louder.

Pippin swallowed as he gripped his sword. "I never thought it would end this way."

"End?" Gandalf asked in a soft tone, a warm smile on his face. "No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take." Pippin, Boromir and Edmund listened intently as he continued, his tone without fear of any kind, simply stating facts. "The grey curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silvered glass. And then you see it."

"See what, Gandalf?" Pippin asked. "See what?"

A far-away look came to the wizard's eyes. "White shores and beyond…A far green country under a swift sunrise."

Pippin took that in before forcing a smile. "Well…that's not so bad, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Gandalf responded.

"Sounds like Aslan's country," Edmund said off-handedly. On their gazes, he continued. "At least, the way he sometimes described it…Not that he talked of it that often but he always made it sound like the most perfect place there was…And once you got there, everything else just seemed to not matter anymore."

Boromir coughed. "As lovely as that sounds, Gandalf…I beg your pardon that I am in no rush to get there just yet."

Gandalf smiled more. "Neither am I, old friend." He sat back as the four watched the door begin to creak inward and prepared themselves. Edmund sincerely hoped Gandalf was correct about this journey…seeing as he might be making it any moment from now.

* * *

Across the Fields from the city, near what remained of the stone outposts, the large fleet of black ships began to pull up to the docks. A contingent of orcs awaited them, not happy about being called away from the slaughter of the humans but someone had to organize the last remaining part of the forces of Mordor. "Late as usual!" the orc captain snarled as he walked to the dock's edge. "Pirate scum. There's knife work that needs doing!" He looked about, seeing no sign of any crew on the docks of the ship. "Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!"

In a flash of movement, Aragorn leapt off the deck of the lead ship, landing before the large orc force. Legolas, Gimli and Susan were quick to join him, their weapons drawn out. The orcs were surprised, but then smiling, figuring they could have some fun after all. Susan simply scowled, having had quite enough of these creatures and their utter disdain for the sanctity of human life.

"There's plenty for the three of us, may the best dwarf win!" Gimli remarked as the four moved forward. Susan notched an arrow to her bow as she marched, hiding a smirk at the orc's reactions. She felt a shiver just as the Army of the Dead came into being, flowing out of thin air to charge the orc forces. Their grins vanished and were instantly replaced with horror as the spirits went on the attack, smashing orcs left and right. An entire contingent appeared on ghostly horses that rode across the surface of the river and into the fields.

Three thousand years after their deaths, the Men of the Mountain had come to fulfill their oath at last.

Pressing through the wide-open path the Dead had left her, Susan nimbly stepped over the bodies of orcs to find some horses nearby, the Dead evidentially deciding they could be spared. She quickly mounted onto one, kicking her heels in to send it riding into the field. Calling on her years of experience in Narnia, Susan managed to balance riding the horse while also lifting her bow, ably firing off arrows at orcs she passed by. "Seven…eight…nine…" she remarked before stopping herself. "Oh, Lord, they have me doing it now!"

Something caught her eye and she turned the horse around to a corner of the battlefield. A massive creature lay on the ground, its head severed from its body. Before it, crushed under a dead horse, lay an armored figure that Susan, to her shock, realized was Theoden. Before him stood a Rohan soldier, a sword held up in defense as he faced off against a hooded figure with a silver crown who gave off waves of pure evil. As Susan watched, the hooded figure swung its mace outward, the soldier holding it up as he fell back so the mace shattered the blade in half. The hooded figure snarled at him. _"Fool. You dare come between the Witch King and his prey? No man can hinder me!"_

Susan saw Merry on the ground, his helmet off, crawling toward the hooded figure with a knife. He stuck it at the man's leg and he howled out in pain, instinctively kicking outward with a blow that sent Merry flying back, crying out with pain, clutching his arm as if it was burning. The Witch King hissed as he reached out to grab the soldier by the throat. "_Now you die."_

Susan didn't hesitate to lift her bow and fire the best arrow she could grab from her quill. Her aim was perfect as it struck the Witch King dead center between its shoulders. His scream was louder, surprise as well as pain as it fell to its knees. The soldier was staggering back, one arm held limply at his side. Reaching behind her, Susan could feel the sword at her back, the one given to her by Galadriel. She lifted it up, gazing it and remembering the elven woman's words. _"This blade shall always help you find your mark."_ Pulling her arm back, Susan threw the sword out as hard as she could. "Here!" she cried out as it whipped through the air.

The soldier caught it perfectly in the hand of his good arm, lifting it up. As he did, the hand also pulled back the helmet, letting it fall to the ground, curly hair flowing loose and the soldier's face fully revealed. Had the Witch King a face, it would be filled with shock as it took in the clearly feminine features set in a look of triumph and defiance, the voice echoing with pride. "I am no _man_."

And with a cry that would do her warrior ancestors proud, Eowyn, Shield maiden of Rohan and Knight of Narnia, thrust her blade as deep and as hard as she could into the open gap of the hood. She yanked her hand back as there was a flash of light from within the hood. The dark figure began to shake and rock, letting out gasps of inhuman agony. The silver helmet bent about as the Nazgul's body twisted, almost as if it was folding in on itself. It collapsed on the ground, twitching and withering, its cries fading away. With one final shake, the Witch King of Angmar was no more.

Eowyn collapsed onto her knees in pain, crawling on the ground toward Theoden. Susan dismounted her horse to move toward her. She heard a growl and looked over to see a particularly ugly orc trying to get to Eowyn, his good hand reaching for a spear. Hearing a cough, the orc looked up to see Susan aiming an arrow right at him. The girl's face had a slight smirk as she took in the orc's dumbfounded expression but then hardened. "I really regret I can only kill you lot once," she stated before letting the shaft fly out.

* * *

Peter was rolling on the ground to avoid an orc attack when the sounds of screams grew louder. Turning, he stared in disbelief at the endless wave of ghostly soldiers charging onto the battlefield. The orcs were trying to fight back but their weapons had no effect on the Dead while the spirits' blades were more than enough to cut them down. A horde of the Dead Army attacked a Mumakil, like ants over a small animal, their weapons bringing the beast to the ground.

"Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…" At the familiar grunt, Peter turned to see Gimli cutting his way through several orcs. The young man moved toward him, stabbing a Haradrim soldier and shaking his head. "I'm not even going to ask how you got here," he called out.

"Not the most pleasant of journeys," Gimli spat as he chopped another orc down. A loud bellow pulled them toward the left and they saw Legolas gripping the side of a Mumakil, climbing onto its back. He fired off arrows at lightning speed, taking down one soldier after another. He paused from his bow to slash out at the straps of the bearer with his knife, cutting it in two. The entire liter shifted over as the creature charged, spilling soldiers in a pile onto the ground. Running across the huge back, Legolas placed three arrows into his bow and fired them point-blank into the Mumakil's head. It let out another bellow before falling forward, smashing into the ground and skidding. Legolas slid down the long trunk, finishing with a leap to land on his feet before the dwarf and Peter.

Peter just stared open-mouthed before Gimli snapped. "That still only counts as one!"

Peter simply stared as he realized he was probably not going to be able to beat out the elf for this battle.

* * *

The door was giving way, the soldiers prepared for what they were certain was the final attack. Boromir hefted his sword, thinking that this was the time his luck finally ran out. He glanced over at Pippin, who stood nearby, his small sword held tight in his hands. Fear was evident on the hobbit's face but he tried to push it aside. Boromir smiled at him. "A more worthy Guard of the Citadel I have never known," he said, meaning every word and Pippin had to brighten at the compliment.

Edmund swallowed as he stood nearby. "Despite what I may recite from history, I've never been a fan of final stands." He shrugged. "Then again, who gets to pick how they die?"

Boromir straightened as the door started to break open. The soldiers readied themselves, prepared to take as many of the enemy with them as they could. Just as the door began to buckle, however, screams could be heard from the other side, screams that grew in volume throughout the city. The banging on the door ceased and it appeared to fold back, as if what weight had been pressed on it from the other side had stopped. Frowning, Edmund moved to the nearby edge of the wall and peeked over. "Oh my God," he blurted.

Boromir, Pippin and Gandalf raced to his side and stared in disbelief at the ghostly figures that flowed around the city, cutting down every orc they came in contact with. "The Men of the Mountain," Gandalf breathed. "Aragorn has called them to our aid." A smile came to his face. "A feat only the true King of Gondor can achieve."

"Saved from certain death by ghosts," Pippin shook his head. "No one in the Shire is going to believe this without a healthy amount of pipe weed handy."

Boromir let out a long breath. "Then Gondor shall still stand."

"For now," Gandalf said. "And at great price."

'But it stands," Edmund quickly said. "And when you come down to it, when you're still standing afterward, it's a victory."

"Once more, the young king speaks with wisdom beyond his years," Gandalf said in a way that made Edmund wonder if he had just been insulted or not.

* * *

Susan moved to Eowyn's side as the older woman moved toward Theoden. "My lord," she whispered.

The king looked up at her, taking in her armor and smiling with pride. "I know that face…" He brushed at her cheek with a gloved hand. "Eowyn." He brushed at her hair. "My eyes darken."

Eowyn shook her head in denial. "No. No, I'm going to save you!'

The kind shook his own head. "My back..is broken. You have to let me go."

Tears filled her eyes as she tried to pull at him. Susan reached to her shoulders, Eowyn slapping her back but Susan grabbed them still. "Eowyn," she said as gently as she could. "We can't move him. His injuries are too great."

"Shed no tears," the dying king said. "Not for me. I go…to my fathers….in whose mighty company I shall not now feel ashamed." His eyes were glazing over as he managed to whisper her name once more. "Eowyn…" Then his eyes closed and he slumped back. Eowyn bowed her head and tears fell onto the body of her uncle. Susan wiped her own eyes as she moved to put a hand on Eowyn's shoulder only to have the woman cry out in pain and fall back. Susan saw that her left arm appeared to be bent in an unnatural way, the woman fighting off the agony for battle only to have it overwhelm her. Susan rolled Eowyn onto her back to try and soothe the other woman's pain. _And they say women have no understanding of the strength of battle._

* * *

It was stunning just how quickly it ended. The battle that had waged for the better part of two days had been brought to a close within minutes of the Dead Army's arrival. Then again, when one could not be affected by enemy weapons, it was a decided advantage for combat. An eerie silence filled the field, the bodies of orcs and men strewn in all directions without a single orc breathing. Before the gates of the White City, the Army of the Dead stood together, the King gazing at Aragorn. The other man stood with Legolas, Gimli and Peter at his side. _"Release us,"_ the King hissed out.

"Bad idea," Gimli muttered, getting a glare from Peter. "Very handy in a tight spot, these lads! Even if they are dead."

Peter smacked him on the helmet. "Do not. Anger. Ghosts. Especially not an army of them."

The King's eyes narrowed as much as they could for mostly empty sockets. _"You gave us your word!"_

Aragorn let a slow nod come. "I hold your oath fulfilled." His voice became more sympathetic. "Go. Be at peace."

The King smiled and this time, there was no malice or mockery in it. It was a true smile of thanks. He seemed to let out a sigh as a wind blew across the field. As it did, the Army began to dissipate, their forms breaking apart and carried along with the breeze. There was no fear in their expressions; instead there was satisfaction, relief and even happiness as they came apart, the wind seeming to blow them into fragments of light. In moments, they had vanished, gone to whatever reward awaited them in the next world.

Peter settled on his heels and let out a breath. "Thank God, that's finally over with."

"One part of the journey," Aragorn intoned as he gazed over the field of the dead. "But there is much to be done still."

"Peter!" The young man looked up to see Susan coming toward him, doing her best to carry a limp Eowyn. Eomer let out a cry at the sight of his sister, racing to lift her from Susan's arms. The young woman's face was set as he spoke. "Theoden has fallen as well." Eomer nearly collapsed to his knees at that news but held on tight as he marched toward the city with his sister in his arms. Susan wiped at her arms before she moved to embrace her brother. "God, Peter," she moaned into his shoulder. "So much death, so much pain…When does it stop? When?"

He rubbed her hair as he let her cry. "We do all we can to make that end soon, Sue," he whispered as he gazed up at the city. He saw something and smiled, turning her around and lifting her head up. Susan gazed through teary eyes to see a familiar face at the wall above them, frantically waving. She couldn't help but laugh at Edmund's excitement at seeing them both again. She knew the dangers were still coming and there was still Lucy to worry about. But being with family again was enough to remind her of what was more than worth fighting for in any world.

* * *

**This chapter ended up longer than I thought but just couldn't break away from the flow of the huge battle. Hopefully not as long to deal with the aftermath as well as returning to Frodo, Sam and Lucy's part in all this.**


	28. The Dark Tower

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**The Dark Tower**

* * *

Night appeared to be growing darker, as hard as that was to believe. Mordor had that way, to kill any hope a traveler had of safety. However, it was clear to Frodo and Sam that even in the brightness of day Cirith Ungol was a place to avoid. The tower seemed designed to be as imposing and threatening as possible, to terrify anyone who looked upon it, rocky ramparts jutting out like daggers. The entranceway was blocked by a pair of huge statues modeled after bizarre monsters, one facing inward, another outward and another facing its twin across the path. The sound of rambunctious drinking and yelling could be heard inside.

"Poor Miss Lucy," Sam groaned softly from the duo's hiding place behind some rocks near the entranceway. "Stuck in that place with all those monsters."

"We'll have to be quick and quiet," Frodo whispered back. "And most importantly, keep our heads."

"Well, then, it's a good thing Merry and Pippin aren't here," Sam managed to joke. "Those two would raise a ruckus that would have every orc in Mordor on us in no time flat."

Fordo smiled before rising, quickly making his way across the rocky field toward the tower. Sam was behind him, wincing as his bare feet scuffed on the hard terrain. "Funny, I never realized why humans cling to shoes so much until we went traveling."

Frodo smiled in sympathy as they made their way to the large gate that was the entrance to the tower. They did their best to be careful but Sam couldn't help shivering at the two statues nearby. "They're looking at us, Mister Frodo," he whispered. "I swear, they are."

Frodo wanted to say it was just his friend's imagination but he couldn't deny the foreboding feeling of being watched as they carefully moved forward. The eyes of the statues seemed to glimmer with malice as the hobbits passed by and Frodo could feel a thickness in the air before them. "Keep close," he whispered as he drew the elven cloak around himself. Sam did the same as they inched forward, trying in vain to keep the eyes of the statues off them. He gasped suddenly as he struck what appeared to be a wall, bouncing back onto Frodo. "Sam, what…" Frodo began only to feel the same invisible wall before him.

The two ran their hands up, pressing on what seemed thin air but quite solid. Frodo glanced up and saw the eyes of the two statues glowing. "It must be some sort of defense," he whispered.

"We have to find a way through it quick," Sam hissed. "Poor Miss Lucy doesn't have much time."

* * *

While she had been awake for a while, Lucy found it best not to move. She was still incredibly weak from the venom of Shelob's bite, reminding her of a particularly bad meal she'd had at a state function long ago. She had tatters of the webbing on her still but for the most part, she was free, just unable to move. The ropes around her wrists didn't help the situation any. Her eyes were half-open, looking at the dark room around her. Weapons on racks were strewn about as two orcs occupied the room. Lucy tensed but then saw neither were looking at her, too busy ransacking her bag.

"Here's something nice," one Orc said, pulling out the scarf Lucy had been wearing since Lothlorien.

"It's going to the Great Eye, along with everything else!" the other orc snarled.

The first orc snarled as he stood up. "I don't take orders from stinking Morgul-rats!"

At another time, Lucy might have pondered the interesting idea of creatures as hideous as orcs having some sort of class system. However, she was more interested in keeping alive as the second orc pulled out a sword. "You touch it and I'll stick this in your gut!" he rasped, waving the sword forward.

The first orc growled and then leapt forward, the two wrestling about. They exchanged blows, the taller of the pair using his size to slam his opponent back and onto a trap door. He moved back, then leapt forward, kicking both his feet into his opponent's stomach, sending him falling through the door and down the stairs.

Lucy couldn't help but wince as she heard the sound of the orc flopping on the stairs. The orc above pointed down and called out "The scum tried to knife me! Kill him!"

A roar came from below, followed by the sounds of all hell breaking loose and Lucy quickly realized the two orc camps were using this as the excuse to finally go at each other. The first orc gave a satisfied nod as he bent back to the bag and rummaged through it. Nearby, Lucy curled up, praying that this would be a distraction enough for her to get her strength back before the twisted monster turned its attention to her.

That hope died as she felt those beady eyes fix on her and a chilling sneer on the orc's lips that made her hope killing her was the worst thing he had in mind.

But she doubted it.

* * *

Sam grunted as he threw himself against the invisible wall for the fourth time, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "Come on!' he hissed. "We can't be kept out by something we can't even see!"

"Save your strength," Frodo said, sighing as he stepped back. "We need our wits to get through this, not our fists."

"Those certainly aren't helping," Sam admitted as he finally moved back from the wall. "But we have to get in there!"

Frodo gazed about, pondering the situation. An inspiration struck him as he reached to his pocket and pulled out the vial given to him by Galadriel. He lifted it up as he whispered, causing it to glow brightly. He held it high over his head, the glow shimmering outward and he and Sam could see the outlines of a wall right in front of them. As they stared, it slowly came apart, parting as if like a curtain. Frodo carefully stepped forward, Sam following closely by. They slowly walked by the Watchers and could now clearly see the hate in those cold stone eyes. As soon as they passed by, a massive wail went out, a howl echoing from those inhuman mouths to match their hideous appearances.

"Well, that's done it!" Sam cried out, throwing up his hands. "We've rung the front bell!" He glared outward, unsheathing his sword. "Well, come on, you lot! Tell your captain that the great Elf warrior has called with his elf-sword too!"

Frodo had his own blade out, trying to center himself. He could still feel the weight of the Ring around his neck but did his best to push it aside, concentrating on the conflict to come. He and Sam could hear the raised voices inside and prepared themselves for a horde of orcs to burst out attacking them. They waited.

And waited.

"They…do know we're here, right?" Sam frowned.

Frodo moved forward, his ears picking up the sounds of yelling and fighting. "I think…I think they may be fighting among themselves."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So much for the mild temperament of orcs," he snorted.

"But it gives us an opportunity," Frodo noted as he began to move through the inner chamber. Sam was quick to follow him, the duo scampering through the hallways. They stopped as they came to a doorway, hugging the sides of the entrance before peeking in. It was a massive hall, easily large enough to encompass half of the hobbits' population and in its time, it must have been quite the nice place. Its beauty was marred due to the massive brawling as orcs of all types went at it, slashing, punching, clawing and biting away at each other. Sam and Frodo couldn't even tell who was winning or even what the sides were, it was just mass chaos.

Which made it perfect for them to slip to the stairway at the side and head up the stone steps. "My guess is they're keeping her in the tower," Frodo said, forced to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the sounds of fighting. "Just keep your head down."

Sam nodded as they headed up but paused as he saw a trio of orcs making their way down the stairs toward them. The two sides stopped, each staring at the other. Sam let out a roar, holding up his arms but the effect didn't exactly fill his opponents with terror. Their laughter seemed to snap something in the normally good-tempered Hobbits, the tension and fear of their trip covering them totally. With dual yells, they charged forward, swinging their swords, the orcs so startled at the attack that they didn't defend themselves until too late.

Sam grunted as he sliced the lead orc in the chest. "That's for Miss Lucy!"

Frodo ducked a swinging axe to slash out with Sting, the glowing blade cutting another orc down. "And for the Shire!" he added.

Sam threw himself at the third orc, tackling the creature so hard, it fell over the side of the staircase and to the floor below. Its body was barely noticed amid the constant brawling. "And that's for my old gaffer!"

Frodo couldn't help laughing at that despite the situation. He and Sam scampered up the stairway to the upper landing, Sam pausing to look down at the chamber. "That's not going to be as easy to get past on the way out," he noted.

Frodo looked down before glancing up at the huge wooden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He followed it with his eyes to see the rope holding it that trailed to a winch just beside them. He looked to Sam and saw his old friend had the same idea. They moved over, hacking with their blades and in seconds, the frayed rope came apart. With a groaning sound, the chandelier collapsed, flying down to crash onto the floor below, creating a howl of screams and various breaking sounds as the orcs below were crushed.

Sam and Frodo looked down at the carnage, both wincing a bit before turning to head up the stairway. Thus, neither saw one orc crawl his way out of the edge of the wreckage, wincing as he rose up. He began to limp away, clutching a long scarf in one hand as he fled the tower.

* * *

Lucy was feeling her strength returning as she started to shuffle on the hard floor. She swallowed as she began to slowly crawl over toward the window, hoping to reach something to use as a support. She let out a rasp as she felt a hand on her leg and herself being rolled over. The orc was there, his teeth set in a savage grin, saliva dripping from his mouth. "Stop your squealing, you little dunghill rat!"

His hand reached from under his clothes to pull out a sharp knife. "I'm gonna bleed you like a stuck pig!"

He gasped out in agony as a blue blade erupted from his chest. After a second, another blade, a normal one, cut through next to it. "Not if we stick you first!" Sam hissed in the stunned orc's ear as he and Frodo pulled their blades out.

The orc slumped to the ground in a heap. Sam raced to Lucy, pulling her up to her feet. He quickly broke her bonds and was instantly enveloped in a huge hug. "Thank you," Lucy whispered, tears in her eyes. "I was so scared…"

"I thought queens didn't get scared," Frodo said with a smile.

"We just hide it better than most," Lucy smiled, breaking away to hug Frodo tightly. She shivered as she brushed the last of the webbing from her. "How did you get in here? All those orcs…"

"Any of them still standing have run off by now," Sam said as he glanced out the window. "But we'd best be gone before someone decides to come back to check."

"The Ring?" Lucy asked. "You still have it?"

Frodo nodded, rubbing at his shirt. He saw Lucy stiffen before tearing her eyes away. "Good…That's…that's good."

Frodo looked at her with sympathy. "You felt it."

She nodded, closing her eyes and nodding. "It was…so heavy. And yet, I wanted it so much…"

"I know," he softly told her. "I know how it feels. I know how it can take you." He hugged her again and Lucy did her best to ignore the throbbing of the Ring against her. "It's my burden. Mine alone. It will destroy you and anyone else."

"All the more reason for us to get rid of that blasted thing," Sam said as he handed Lucy a flask of water he'd taken from an orc body. She gratefully downed it in a long gulp, wiping her mouth and nodding in thanks. "Any ideas…where to go next?" she asked.

"Right now, it's how we get there that's important," Frodo said. "We can't go just like this, we'll be spotted too easily."

Lucy frowned before her eyes widened and she smiled softly. "I think…it may be time…we tried out what my brothers would refer to as one of the classics."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the trio walked out of Cirith Ungol. All were clad in orc armor with helmets to cover their faces. The two hobbits seemed to limp in the heavy boots but knew they were necessary. Likewise, Lucy tried to balance the thick armor on her small frame without it looking too obviously big for her. It had also been a while since she had such a large sword on her person and she'd been bigger then.

"Well, we're here, Mister Frodo," Sam said as they stared at the brutal landscape before them. "We made it to Mordor."

"We're close," Frodo said, staring at the shadow of the mountain in the distance, its fiery top visible for miles. "But still have to make our way through orc lines to get there and the odds are against us."

"Now, don't be so down," Lucy said as they marched along. "After all, going by the odds, we should have been dead at least three times over by now."

Sam chuckled. "This London sounds like one interesting place to give us people like you, Miss Lucy."

Lucy forced a smile. "I hope you can see it yourself some time." She was glad the helmet's face plate prevented them from seeing her smile fade as the darkness of the land overtook the three lone travelers on the long march to the mountain of fire.

* * *

**Some parts inspired by the level of this part of the movie from EA Games' very good "Return of the King" video game. All comments welcomed. **


	29. Houses of Healing and War

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**Houses of Healing and War**

* * *

The sun was setting upon the darkest day in Gondor's history. Some fires remained as the soldiers were sweeping through the city, looking for those who needed help. Civilians were aiding each other spreading food and medical aid where needed. The dead of Gondor had been cleared from the fields with honor. The orcs, meanwhile, were being left to a bevy of crows and scavenger animals that were clearly enjoying a grand feast.

For the Pensivies, it was no time for a happy reunion. The chaos of the battle had taken its toll majorly and they were all attempting to handle it. An entire floor of the palace had been turned into an infirmary for the wounded. It was a horrid sight for the most part, the floors stained with blood, bandaged people on cots and sounds of moans echoing through the chamber. The smell was enough to make even hardened soldiers gag but the bevy of nursemaids and doctors were doing their best to help those in need.

Some of the special cases were brought to the Houses of Healing, special buildings meant for the best healers in the city. Faramir had been given a spot in one of the beds to tend to his wounds, the healers working on him the best they could. Boromir was sitting at his brother's side. Despite having spent the day overseeing his city, he refused to rest, wanting to be there when Faramir awakened. His face was haggard with the tension of the last day but still hopeful Faramir would recover soon.

Nearby, Eowyn lay on her own cot, as much of her armor removed as could be to leave her comfortable. Her left arm was bent badly as her right hand was covered with a strange black color. Eomer was at his sister's side, his head bowed with concern. Gandalf was gazing at them both solemnly, leaning on his staff.

Susan was bringing a bowl of water to one of the maidens as she gazed at the wizard. "Can't you do anything?"

He shook his head. "Their wounds are greater than any mere magic can heal. Many are my skills but sadly…" He sighed. "My powers have leaned more for offensive than truly aiding others. I cannot help them."

"Someone has to," Susan hissed. Her eyes fell toward Merry on his own cot. "They're barely awake. The healers say it's nothing they can explain."

"I am not surprised," Gandalf said. "It is the Dark Shadow, the true essence of the Nazgul. Few can withstand its dark power."

An elderly woman sighed in agreement. She was in a dark dress with a shawl around her white hair, her features aged but eyes still clear with intellect. Ioreth, Susan recalled her name. "That is true. It is said their power can only be tempered by one that does not exist now."

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"It is an old saying," the elder woman noted. "Part of a song….The hands of a king are the hands of a healer. But, sadly, there is no king now."

She turend to see Susan and Gandalf staring at each other with wonder. "Aragorn," she whispered.

"My lady Ioreth," the wizard proclaimed. "Your name shall be well remembered for years to come! Guard!" He called to a nearby soldier. "Send for Aragorn at once!" The guard was startled but quick to obey. It wasn't long before Aragorn was racing into the room, Peter and Edmund behind him. It took only a few moments for Gandalf to explain what we needed but Aragorn was unsure. "I am no king yet."

Gandalf smiled. "You commanded the Army of the Dead. A feat only the true King of Gondor could achieve that. Thus, your hands are what are needed here."

"I am no healer." The man's countenance darkened. "I have far too much blood upon these hands."

"Blood can be washed away," Gandalf gently said. "Their lives can only be saved by you, Aragorn. It is time to accept that."

After a pause, he nodded and pulled up his sleeves as he walked to Ioreth. "Show me what must be done," he began.

For the next hour, he washed the wounds of the three, applying some herbs he had ordered. It was painstakingly slow work which the children attempted to help with as best they could. Peter moved to Boromir, still standing over his brother's body. "You need to rest," he said.

"I can't leave."

"Rest. And the city needs your help."

"I left him alone before and it nearly caused his death," Boromir stated.

"It's not your fault," Peter pressed. He put a hand to the older man's shoulder. "I've been where you are. I've been with Edmund when he's been badly wounded. I know you want to stay with him." He moved to block Boromir's view of the bed. "But you're not doing him any good here. You have to rest. Let Aragorn do his work."

Boromir stared at him before smiling softly. "You share with your brother a wisdom beyond your years." He sighed as he rose, looking to Aragorn. "You will let me know when there is a change?"

"Of course," Peter said. He watched the man leave and looked to Aragorn tending to Eowyn, his voice letting out a soft song as he tended to her wounds. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave a weak smile as he tended to her. Peter sighed as he did his best to help out, mixing herbs and getting cloths at Aragorn's commands and helping him tend to the injured trio. "No word of the others?" he whispered.

"None yet," Aragorn replied. He was by Merry now, Pippin sleeping by his friend's side. "They have passed beyond any of our sight, into the heart of Mordor."

Peter took a deep breath at that. "Three alone against that monster. The chances against them…"

"We must have hope still," Aragorn stated.

Peter sighed. "Hope seems in relatively low supply right now."

"I'm hungry. What time is it?"

Peter and Aragorn both started as they looked down at the hobbit on the bed. Pippin's head snapped up and his eyes flew open so wide it looked as if they were trying to escape from his head. He reached out quickly and grabbed Merry's bandaged hand. "Merry! Yer awake!"

"Well yes Pippin, I am," said Merry with a wryly smile. "But that doesn't quite answer my question."

"Oh! Well its past supper-time now," said Pippin, unable to hold back the wide grin on his face. "Though I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me."

"They will indeed," said a voice coming from the door, and both hobbits turned to see Gandalf walking in, with a pleased and tired smiled on his own lips. "And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in Minas Tirith, where his name is in honor."

Merry's face blushed a bit as he tried to sit up, but Pippin laid a hand on him to keep him from moving too much. "Good," he said softly. "Then I would like supper first, and after that a pipe…" Pippin's face darkened and he then shook his head firmly. "No not a pipe. I don't think I'll ever smoke again."

"Why not?" asked Pippin.

"Well…" said Merry in a reluctant voice. "Théoden is dead. He had said he was sorry he had never had a chance of talking herb-lore with me. The night before we left… it was one of the last things he ever said to me. I can't ever be bale to smoke again without thinking of him, and that day, Pippin, when he rode up Isengard and was so polite."

"Smoke then, and think of him," said Gandalf softly. "For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honorable to the end of your days."

Merry smiled and nodded. "Aye…that is true." He winced as he laid back. "But perhaps…I'd best wait a bit. Not for me, but them." He nodded to Eowyn and Faramir.

Peter smiled at Aragorn. "Then again…hope does have a way of returning when you least expect it."

* * *

The throne room had taken no damage during the battle so it made sense as a place to meet. Gandalf was pacing as Aragorn, Susan, Peter, Edmund, Legolas and Eomer stood watching. Gimli leaned on a nearby chair smoking his pipe. Boromir, with reluctance, had settled onto his father's throne, doing his best not to look too uncomfortable on it. He knew the title of Steward now passed onto him but hated having to actually take it on. But despite that worry and the condition of his brother, he was doing his duty, something the royalty of Narnia had to respect.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf gravely stated. "The Darkness is deepening."

Aragorn was staring outward. "If Sauron had the Ring, we'd know."

"Pretty sure everyone in this land would," Edmund couldn't help adding.

"It is only a matter of time," Gandalf said. The children were surprised to hear a nearly defeatist tone in his voice. "He has suffered a defeat, yes but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping.

"Let him stay there," Gimli grumbled between puffs of smoke. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

As much as he respected Gimli as a fighter, Peter was once more reminded why dwarves weren't known for their tactical brilliance. Gandalf answered him as he walked to the dwarf. "Because ten thousand orcs stand between him and Mount Doom!" He sighed, shaking his head. "I've sent him to his death."

"It was his choice," Peter spoke up. "He and Lucy both. You can't blame yourself for all that's happened. All we can do now…is to try and aid them?"

"How?" Faramir asked. "We have not the strength of arms to invade Mordor."

"Our armies are still recovering from the last battle," Boromir proclaimed. "If Mordor launches another assault, we'd be hard-pressed to fight them off."

"Then we draw him out." All eyes turned to Aragorn, who spoke in a strong tone. "We force him to empty his lands. Then we muster our full strength and march on the Black Gates."

"A diversion," Peter realized. "It could work."

Eomer shook his head. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"Especially what we have," Boromir added.

"No, not for ourselves," Aragorn agreed. "But we can give Fordo the chance he needs. We keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us, he won't see Frodo."

"He gets in, throws in the Ring," Edmund went on. "And that should be Sauron's end."

Boromir was nodding as he saw the plan. "Sauron is the only thing holding the orc armies together as a whole. Without him, they'll fall apart, be too disorganized to achieve any damage."

Susan sucked in her breath. "It can work…but if it doesn't, we'll be committing the last stand of humanity to destruction." Her words weighed heavily until a gruff voice broke through.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Gimli grinned as he spat out his pipe. "What are we waiting for?"

"A modicum of good sense?" Susan couldn't help asking. "We're talking about a full-scale attack on a force we're nowhere near ready for."

"Not to mention it'll be nearly impossible to draw Sauron out," Peter added.

The tiniest trace of a smile crossed Aragorn's lips. "Oh…I think I can find a way."

* * *

What Aragorn did was in private and the Pensevieves weren't really sure what it involved. However, it seemed to get the job done as he exited a private chamber, shaken but announcing that Sauron knew they were coming. That meant that once more, the children found themselves preparing for war.

"I should be going with you," Boromir stated for the fifth time as he stood in the armory.

Aragorn shook his head as he looked over the available swords. "No. We need someone here to keep order. With your father…gone…you are now the Steward. You must see to the people left behind." He glanced about and leaned in. "And should we fail….you will be needed here. To save what's left."

Boromir saw the seriousness in the other man's eyes and the knowledge this was a battle that seemed impossible. He nodded grimly as he put a hand to Aragorn's shoulder. "You told me to always have faith," he said softly. "You did at Helm's Deep. You did on the Paths of the Dead. You can do it here." He sighed. "I only wish I can go with. We began this journey together. I'd prefer to see it through to the end."

Aragorn smiled softly. "And I would have you with us." He sobered. "But you have your duty here. This city needs its protector."

"Go with all the spirits watching over you," Boromir intoned. He motioned behind him and a waiting steward raced up holding something. "Here. This is for you to wear."

Aragorn gazed at it, a leather top marked with the emblem of the White Tree. He looked up to Boromir's smiling face. "You fight with us. You fight for us. You have earned the right to wear your people's standard. And they will be honored to follow you."

Aragorn nodded to him. "Thank you." He became aware of Peter standing nearby. "You're coming with as well?"

Peter nodded. "All three of us." At Aragorn's look of surprise, Peter made a soft smile. "We've been split up enough on this journey. And if Lucy is in Mordor, we're going there together."

"The chances of coming back…"

"Are as fair as the chances of anything else we've done so far," Peter noted. He studied Aragorn closely. "Are you all right? Whatever you did…"

"I used the Palantir." At Peter's wide-eyed look, Aragorn quickly added. "It was the only way to get to him. To get his attention."

Peter whistled. "Hell of a risk." He kept looking at Aragorn. "Whatever he said…whatever he told you…You know how he lies."

"It felt real…"

"Do you believe it? In your heart?"

Aragorn looked away. "I do not want to."

"Then don't," Peter insisted. "We need you at your best, your head in the game. Whatever he has threatened, however he's warned…We need you now ready to lead us."

Aragorn put a hand to his shoulder. "I will be. And I will be honored to have you with us at the end."

"Don't say the end," Peter quickly added. "At least, not for us." He hoped his confidence was a lot stronger then it felt saying it.

* * *

Susan was going over a rack of weapons in the main armory, selecting the best arrows she could find. Her quiver was already full but she was filling a second as she guessed she'd need all the arms she could for this. She had changed into a new jerkin suit, more appropriate for combat than the dresses she'd been wearing. She became aware of Legolas coming to the rack, also choosing his arrows. She slid a pair into her quiver before speaking. "Not going to add a lecture on this being too dangerous, I hope."

"I am aware of how futile that would be," the elf said. He studied her carefully. "I doubted you when we first met. In your story of being a queen. However, I can now see the truth. You are worthy of a crown."

She looked at him with a light smile. "In my world, such a thing would be considered flirting."

He did not smile back. "I have no illusions regarding us. Even should we survive, you are not of this world. And my people are leaving it." He paused to rub her hand. "But I would have enjoyed spending more time with you."

Susan looked at him before smiling. "It's strange. I was always in a hurry to grow up. Living in England pushed me on. In Narnia, I was eager to embrace the Queen life, to keep myself busy, to learn and rule as best as I could." She brushed her hair back. "When we got back….I was almost relieved to be a child again, to have another chance to experience that growth." She paused, looking at her bow. "But somehow…it felt different. I realize now I was going about it wrong, trying to grow up far too fast."

"This land hardens the young," Legolas noted. "We've seen that."

"Perhaps too much," Susan sighed. "Children should be allowed to be children, not adults so soon. It makes me realize now that it's fine to look ahead to the future but not at the risk of living in today." She smiled softly. "I guess it took this trip to realize that growing up fast isn't always the best thing."

Legolas smiled. "A very wise outlook, Susan." He looked at her. "A shame, however. It might have been worth getting to know you more."

She smiled back just before a loud banging sound got their attention. They both turned to see Gimli messing with a helmet easily a size too large for him, trying to pull it off without knocking over another stack of weapons.

Legolas looked to Susan, his lips pursed together. "Of course, age and wisdom are not always hand in hand."

Her laugh was a bright echo in the solemn chamber.

* * *

Edmund came up to where Peter was polishing his helmet. Their horses stood ready to ride as other soldiers began to mount their own. A token force of guards were being left behind but almost every able-bodied man in the city was being mustered for this attack. There were few civilians about, most tending to repairs or mourning. Others did not wish to see their loved ones leaving for what seemed to be a futile quest. "Trying to look good for death?" Edmund asked. He was wearing a helmet of his own along with some new armor, his sword at his side.

Peter sighed. "Try not to be depressing, Ed, I can do that on my own."

Edmund moved next to his brother. "Whatever happens, we're together."

"Not Lucy."

"She'll be there. Knowing Lu, right in the thick of it all." Edmund paused as he saw Boromir mingle among the horses, pausing to speak words to a rider here or there, each man looking honored by his presence. Seeing the two boys, he came over, his smile forced but there. "As I told Aragorn, I only wish I could be with you both."

"Your brother is here," Edmund pointed out. "Family comes first. We more than understand that."

"How is he?" Peter asked.

"Recovering," Boromir answered. "Eowyn too, faster than the healers expected. They say it's as if some power is helping her."

Peter smiled. "She is a Knight of Narnia. Aslan takes care of his subjects, however distant."

Boromir seemed unsure of that but decided not to press it. "Nevertheless, I am proud to have fought with you. And know that the prayers and hopes of all in this city go with you."

"We'll take whatever we can get," Peter said as he mounted his horse. Edmund did the same, he and Boromir sharing a long look of respect and understanding. They moved their horses to join the column making their way out of the city. Gandalf was on Shadowfax, the white horse seeming to gleam in the morning light. Legolas and Gimli were sharing a horse as Susan rode hers with Merry riding before her. Pippin was sharing a horse with Eomer, the two hobbits looking afraid but still wanting to see to their friends.

Aragorn was catching their attention. The man wore the emblem of the White Tree proudly with the rest of his armor. His hair was still long and unkempt but somehow, he seemed far more regal than the children had known him before. He rode to the front of the column, pausing to gaze at the soldiers gathered. "The night has been long," he called out. "And many of you wish to stay with your families. But I thank you for seeing your duty, to help end the evil of Sauron once and for all! Whatever we face…We face with the honor of your forbearers and the courage of men!" He turned and began to slowly ride out, the column following. Boromir stod by the gate, watching them go. As soon as the last horse passed through, he gave the order to have the now-repaired gate doors shut. His gaze was fixed on the band as the doors shut, praying deeply to see their return soon.

The children were silent as they rode together, each not wanting to be the first to speak. Edmund, not surprisingly, broke the silence. "Once more into the breach, dear friends…"

"Shut up, Edmund," his siblings snapped as they rode to face what they hoped would not be their final fate.

* * *

**So finally getting around to setting up the final battle, hope to have it up a lot sooner than this chapter. Thanks again for your patience. **


	30. The Final Push

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

** The Final Push**

* * *

Lucy had long ago made the vow that if she ever managed to get back home, she would spend at least two solid weeks resting in bed, not moving a step, not even to go to the bathroom. It would be worth it to finally avoid the agony that sprang with every step she took. The boots just made it worse although she could imagine Frodo and Sam in even more pain due to their usually bare feet. She sighed to brush the sweat from her brow, the air of the land becoming hotter and thicker the closer they came to the mountain of fire. It wasn't just the air though. It was as if every step closer to Mount Doom increased the feeling of fear and defeat that had hung over them for the last three days.

At least she was free of that horrid armor. It had been tricky avoiding some of the huge orc gatherings but Lucy was used to being able to slip around without being noticed. Thankfully, orcs were hardly the most observant of creatures and by keeping their heads down and faces covered while keeping to the outskirts of camps, the trio had managed to get past the marching forces. All they now had to worry about was the massive mountain that drew ever closer.

At first, Lucy had thought it was her imagination. But no, she was now certain that the closer they came to the mountain, the worse the terrain became. The rocks were bigger and sharper, the land harder and more flat and the humid air became thicker and toxic. The mountain was striking as it framed the fortress of Bara-dur, the tower extending upward with a pair of sharp protrusions that housed the Eye of Sauron. It was literally a huge eye, fiery hot, its black iris sweeping the land with a beam of light that was frankly the most terrifying thing Lucy had ever seen. The heat was unbearable, worse than any summer in either London or Narnia and Lucy could feel her strength fading as they marched along. She saw Frodo stumbling and falling to his knees and moved to him, Sam right behind her.

"I…I can't…" the young hobbit gasped. "It's heavy…so heavy…"

"We're close," Lucy groaned, pointing up at the mountain. "Look…all this way and we're nearly there! Just a bit further."

Sam was moving to open their canteen and pour a few drops of water onto Frodo's mouth. He swallowed it eagerly as Sam took a small sip of his own. "Easy," Frodo gasped. "We won't have any…for the trip home."

If her throat wasn't so parched, Lucy would have let out a short laugh at that. As it was, Sam shook his head. "I don't think there will be a trip home, Mr. Fordo."

Hearing the usually confident and upbeat Sam basically saying there was no hope jarred Lucy. And yet, he was merely saying what they had all known from the beginning. This had been a one-way journey and the destination was all that mattered. Oddly, any fear she'd had had been brushed aside long ago. She'd faced death more times than a girl her age should have, she'd known death and yet to see it coming soon…she somehow felt at peace with it.

Something caught her eye from above and her instinct kicked in. "Down!" she cried out as she grabbed at Frodo. Sam helped her push Frodo down and behind a rock. As they did, the sweeping red-orange light of the Eye of Sauron swept over the rocks before them. Lucy shivered as she felt the sheer wave of malovence just off the creature's gaze. The light swept away as they all let out breaths they hadn't even realized they were holding. "It's gone," Sam whispered as he peeked over the edge of the rocks. He saw the Eye turning its gaze away, fixed in another direction. "It's looking to the North. Now's our chance!"

Groaning, Frodo allowed Lucy to take his arms as they made their way to the mountain, none wondering why the Eye was looking off.

* * *

The Pevensies had been on marches to war before, several in the last few weeks. But not like this. There was no sound, not the usual mutters among the soldiers or cheers of support. No, except for the clanking of armor and weapons, it was deathly quiet fitting with the somber mood. Even Edmund was silent as they marched into their fifth day, aware of the darkening and dying land around them. It wasn't hard to see the Gate coming, the massive metal wall visible for miles and just grew more foreboding as they approached it.

The host came to a halt, all taking in the huge wall before them and the lack of movement inside. "Maybe they don't know we're here?" Pippin piped up.

"They know," Peter intoned. "Sauron just wants to show he thinks us beneath him."

"We shall dissuade him of that," Aragorn stated as he kicked his heels in to urge Brego forward. He was followed by the rest of the Fellowship, stopping several yards short of the gate. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn called out. "Let justice be done upon him! For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands! Therefore, its King demands he should atone for his evils and depart then forever! Come forth!"

Silence echoed over the land once more. Then, with a loud groaning, the metal doorway began to slide open, dust billowing up as it opened up. A figure on horseback rode forward, the light of the Eye of Sauron framing him. Its horse seemed uneasy, as if not liking the burden it was carrying. As he came closer, they could see he was a particularly hideous man, robed entirely in black with a large helmet marked with odd runes and three sharp prongs protruding outward which covered the top of his head to the nose. The mouth drew attention as it was not only quite large but appeared to have been cut even wide with scarring around the lips to dominate the face, showing rows of sharp and jagged teeth.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," the figure rasped in a chilling voice. The mouth widened into a horrific smile but to his credit, Aragorn simply gave a "is that so?" expression. "Is there any in this rout with the authority to treat with me?" the being continued. The head seemed to look at the children and hobbits. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least, Isildur's Heir. It takes more to make a king than a broke blade or rabble such as this."

Peter leaned toward Edmund. "I think the one good thing about Sauron's current situation is that we don't have to hear him do these annoying speeches."

"And does the man have to employ the ugliest emissaries?" his brother returned.

The Mouth of Sauron glanced over to him, the lips turning downward slightly. "Ah, the children from another land. Until now, my Master has not seen you fit to be counted as a nuisance. It would be a shame to end your young lives so soon."

"We'll try not to shame you then," Peter stated, putting on a good poker face.

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed," Gandalf proclaimed. "Tell your master that the armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The Mouth let out a raspy laugh. "Old Greybeard, you have no say in this at all. Have we not heard of thee at whiles and of they warnderings, ever hatching a plot and mischief at a safe distance?"

"I hardly believe you are in a position to talk of someone's mischief," Susan put in.

The grin grew wider. "Ah, yes. I have a token I was bidden to show thee." Reaching under his cloak, he threw down a single item to the dusty ground. A cloak the group found all too familiar.

"Lucy's cloak," Susan whispered.

"Oh, no," Merry groaned. "Then Frodo…"

"Silence!" Gandalf barked.

The Mouth took in the dismayed looks on the others and chuckled. "They were dear to thee, I see. Know they suffered greatly at the hands of their host. Who would have thoughts ones so small could endure such pain?"

Susan closed her eyes to fight back tears as Edmund wiped at his face. Aragorn was moving his horse off at a careful pace as the Mouth's grin grew wider still. "And who is this? Isildur's Heir? It takes more than a broken Elvish blade-"

What else he might have said was lost as Aragorn drew said blade in one smooth motion to swipe the orc's head from his body. It landed down, the Mouth still wide open as the body sat in place for a few seconds before slumping to the ground.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli muttered in a dry tone.

Aragorn looked back at them, his face tight with anger. "I don't believe it. I _will_ not!" He began to move his horse away as a mighty groan filled the entire valley. The dark light from ahead became brighter as they could see thousands upon thousands of orc of various types, all loaded for bear and prepared for war.

The group quickly moved back to the assembled soldiers, who were clearly afraid of the sheer evil pouring out of the gate. "Hold your ground!" Aragorn yelled out. "Sons of Gondor! Sons of Rohan! My brothers!" He began to ride back and forth, gazing at them all with a bearing his friends had never seen before. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship." His jaw set. "But it is not this day! An hour of wolves, of shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is _not this day! _This day, _we fight!_ By all you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West! _Stand until the end!" _

There were no cheers in response but all felt a new courage take hold at his words. For the first time ever, the man truly was the king he was born to be and determined to lead his people, all of them, into one battle to decide the fate of their world. Peter and Edmund had smiles on their faces. More than anyone, they knew what it was like to be thrust into becoming a ruler and both knew Aragorn would be a king the world would be proud of…provided he lived past this day.

They had dismounted, their weapons ready. Gimli was letting out a tired sigh as he stood next to Legolas. "Never thought I'd be dying fighting side by side with an elf."

Legolas looked down at him. "What about side by side with a friend?"

Gimli looked up to smile softly. "Aye. That I can do."

Susan was readying her bow as she steadied herself. "She's alive," she whispered. "I'd know if she wasn't." She glanced to her brothers. "For some bizarre reason…I always thought I'd be the last of us to go."

"Really?" Edmund frowned. "Strange, I always believed it'd be us together."

"No one ever gets to choose," Peter noted as he made sure his helmet was on straight. By now, the orc army had moved out and surrounded the human army on three sides. Weapons were raised as they growled and snarled, eager to tear the opposing force to pieces. In the far distance, Mount Doom could be seen with the Eye bearing down upon them. Even from afar, it was clear how it was staring with malovence and triumph, ready to witness the end of Man before it.

Aragorn stared out at it, his sword at his side, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. He slowly turned to face them all and smiled softly.

"For Frodo."

With that, he took off in a charge toward the orcs lined up before them. "For Aslan!" Peter cried out as the others followed him and then the soldiers and the last great battle of the War of the Ring began.

* * *

Frodo gasped as he fell to his knees at the surface of the mountain, choking on the hard smoke. "I…can't…" he whispered. "I can't…anymore."

Sam lay next to him, staring up at the fiery mountain above them as Lucy was barely on her feet. "It'll be spring soon, Mr. Frodo," Sam gasped. "In the Shire…Orchards will be in blossom. And the birds nesting in the hazel thicket." He wiped ash from his mouth. "They'll be sowing summer barley in the lower fields and eating the first of the strawberries with cream."

"God, I miss strawberries," Lucy moaned.

"I…I can't recall," Frodo whispered. "Not food. Not water or the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark." He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "There's no veil between me and the wheel of fire! I can see him with my waking eye!"

"You're not alone," Lucy coughed. "You have us, Frodo."

"Come on." Sam grabbed him in his arms. "I can't carry it for you…but I can carry you!" He pulled his long-time friend onto his back and lifted him up as he walked up the pathway. If Lucy hadn't been so dehydrated, she'd have cried at the sight but instead helped Sam lift Frodo along. It took only a few minutes to spot the crevice open in the mountain and the pathway within. "Just a little further," she whispered. "Just a few…more..steps…."

"Clever Hobbitsessssss….to climb so hiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!"

Their eyes shot upward and Lucy's mouth rasped out a scream as Gollum leapt down at them. The creature was looking more feral than ever, his hands now claws as he tackled them to the ground, knocking Lucy and Sam back. His hands wrapped around Frodo's throat and began to squeeze, his lips pulled back in an inhuman smile. Lucy leapt at his back but was too weak to pull him off effectively as the man was stronger than he seemed, especially when maniac like this.

"Mustn't go that way!" Gollum shrieked. "Mustn't hurt the Precioussssss!"

"You…swore…" Frodo gasped out. "You swore on the precious! Sméagol swore!"

Gollum leaned in to rasp at his face. "_Sméagol lied."_

Whatever ounce of humanity this wretched being might have had was long dead. All that was left was a monster determined to get the Ring back whatever it took and nothing else mattered. The anger at Gollum doing this after all they'd tried to help him drove Lucy as she picked up the nearest large rock she could find and hurled it at Gollum's head. He howled as he was hit and Sam grabbed him to shove him against the rocks, sending him scampering down the hillside.

"Get in there!" Sam yelled, pushing Frodo toward the crevice. Lucy was following him, ducking into the hot space as the roar of the volcano rocked above them.

* * *

Gimli and Legolas weren't doing any competition counting this time and neither was Peter. This was deathly serious as they cut down one orc after another but the numbers seemed endless. Gandalf was moving with high speed for a man his age, swinging his staff with blasts of magic now and then to knock enemies back and a sword to cut down others. Susan was firing arrows as soon as she could, so hard her fingers were bleeding but she ignored the pain. When she felt herself running low, she'd pause long enough to grab a few from corpses and then go back on the attack. The hobbits were quick on the ground, using their size to strike at orcs quickly and move away. Edmund smashed his shield into one orc's face before cutting it down as Peter moved forward to attack another.

He couldn't see the human casualties but they appeared to be holding their own better than expected. Of course, there was nothing like imminent death and destruction to push a fighter on. At least this time around, Peter knew they didn't have to worry about a witch turning fighters into stone at random. No, it was just a murderous army of evil which oddly wasn't quite as terrifying. That or years of adulthood had inured Peter more than he believed.

Aragorn was charging forward to slice an orc down, never pausing as he went on the attack, seeming to shrug off any mild blows to deliver fatal ones. He dodged a blow to kick an orc back and then turned at a huge roar. A giant troll was pushing its way through the crowd, not caring about his comrades crushed underfoot. Its armor seemed unnecessary as its skin was rock solid and the axe in his hands as large as one of the hobbits as he swung it at Aragorn, who barely dodged.

An inhuman scream filled the air as the Nazgul flew down on their Fell-Beasts, their claws extended and ready to grab anyone in their way. Arrows flew up at them but they dodged them, the creatures ready to strike as they had in Gondor to decimate the armies below. But before they could, a cloud of shadows fell upon them as another group of creatures flew downward.

"The eagles!" Pippin cheered. The Pevensies had been told of the regal beings but it was still jarring to see eagles that were each roughly the size of a fighter plane back home. They swept down with loud war cries to attack the Nazgul, the Black Riders unprepared for opponents up in the sky. Not having to wait for commands, the eagles tore into the Fell-Beasts, slashing and clawing at them hard, tearing wings apart and sending the Nazgul falling out of the sky. As inhuman as they were, even the Ringwraiths were stunned by a hundred foot fall onto solid rock or orcs, effectively taking them out of the battle.

Yet that wasn't enough to turn the tide as the conflict continued and Aragorn found himself knocked back by a blow of the troll's axe. The monster moved forward as Peter lunged out, slashing at its side. Growling, the troll kicked back, its foot smashing into Peter's gut and knocking his breath away. A cracking sound indicated at least one rib was broken as he landed next to Aragorn. They looked up as the troll marched forward and brought its axe up for one last sweep….

* * *

As bad as it was outside, the heat within the mountain was almost unbearable for Lucy. She coughed as she made her way through the jagged rock, leaning on one wall and yelling in pain at the heat it gave out. She walked forward and onto the jagged rock walkway that led to the mountain's center. It was huge inside and bright red-yellow from the pools of lava far below, smoke billowing upward. Lucy saw Frodo standing at the edge of the narrow jut, the ring held on the chain in his hand. "Thank God," she moaned as she walked forward. "This is it, Frodo! Throw it in!"

Frodo was staring at the Ring as it swung before him and down at the fiery pool. He slowly turned toward her and Lucy felt a shiver at the look in his eye. "What are you waiting for!" she shrieked. "Let it go!"

Frodo slowly shook his head. "No. The Ring is mine."

"Oh, not this now," Lucy moaned as she stepped forward and forced herself not to look at the Ring herself. "Frodo…this is what we came for. To destroy it!"

"Why?" he snarled as he tore it off its chain. "It's my own. My….Precious."

And with that, he slipped it on his finger and vanished from sight.

"_No!" _Lucy jumped at the sound of Sam's voice behind her, the other hobbit having come in just as Frodo place on the ring. "Mister Frodo, please, you have to get rid of it!"

Lucy moved forward, looking at the ground, hoping to see footprints or dust, something to indicate where the invisible hobbit was moving. She and Sam instinctively spread out so to make sure he wouldn't get past them and Lucy was ready to move forward when they heard a snarl behind them.

In a blur of movement, Gollum knocked Sam aside, a rock in his hand with blood on it. Lucy backed up but Gollum paid her no mind, his wide eyes glancing about the small area before them. Briefly, Lucy wondered what good it could do but then realized that after so many centuries with the Ring, Gollum wasn't looking as a normal person would.

He proved that correct by leaping forward and seeming to hang in mid-air, bouncing around as he clung to the invisible Frodo. Lucy was helping up Sam as Gollum twisted around in the air, clawing and screeching. His hands grabbed at air and his jaw opened as he moved down….

A scream cut through the air as a spray of blood came onto Gollum's lips. Frodo suddenly appeared, withering on the ground and clutching his hand. Sam was there in an instant, Lucy behind him as she saw Gollum with the Ring in one hand and something spat from his mouth in the other. She glanced at the object and felt her throat constrict at the sight of a bloody finger lying on the ground.

She was grateful for her lack of food as surely she would have expelled it now at the realization that Gollum had actually bitten off Frodo's finger to get at the ring. The warped creature was laughing as he stood at the edge of the outcropping, the Ring held high in his hands, at long last his once more. "Precious! _Preeeeeeecious!" _

Sam was trying to bind Frodo's wound but the hobbit was fixated on Gollum. Shoving his friend away, Frodo yelled as he charged forward and tackled Gollum, sending both of them over the ledge.

"_Frodo!" _Lucy and Sam yelled as they ran to the ledge. They looked down to see Frodo hanging onto a jutting just a few feet down with his good hand. He groaned as he did, Sam moving over the ledge. "Take my hand, Frodo!"

He looked up at them, reason returned to his eyes and with it a huge amount of guilt. He glanced down at the fiery pool below him, his thoughts clear. "Don't you even _dare_!" Lucy snapped as she joined Sam. "We didn't travel all this way to have you just give up! Come here!"

Frodo gazed up at them, at their desire to save him after all he'd done and reached to take Sam's hand. Lucy helped him pull as the two brought Frodo up to the outcropping and held him tight.

As the struggle above went on, Gollum had fallen, the being ecstatic at the Ring clutched in his hands. Nothing else was in his mind, not his death, not his life, not the agony when he hit the pool of lava below, not even how it swallowed him up, incinerating him instantly, his hand still holding the Ring up as his sad and pitiful life came to a merciful end. The Ring itself landed onto the spot he had been and sat for several moments in the magma. It was as if it was trying to fight the elements and keep itself alive as its master wanted. But for all its power, even it could not fight the inevitable, the solid band coming apart into a golden liquid.

And thus, over three millennia after its birth, the One Ring was finally returned to the lava from which it came.

* * *

Susan and Legolas were shoving their way through the army of orcs to try and get a clear shot at the incoming troll even as Edmund cut down a trio of attackers to try and help. Before they could, before the troll could make the fatal blow, a cry unlike any ever heard in this land sounded.

_**"EIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAA AAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH HHHHH!"**_

Humans, elves and orcs alike stopped in mid-strike and looked to the distance. The Eye had turned itself around, realizing too late it had been looking at the wrong threat. The iris blinked and swept about frantically as a loud rumble sounded. While the men were confused, the orcs had faces of terror, as if some dark nightmare they'd always feared had finally come to pass. They began moving back, slowly at first but then, trolls and orcs alike began to run, dropping weapons and racing away from Mordor.

Above the fortress, clouds began to swirl about as the tower itself began to tilt, then to fall. The tower of Barad-dur crumbled in on itself, as the Eye flickered in utter terror as Sauron felt his spirit fading away and for all his strength, could not stop death from finally claiming the prize long denied it.

"He…he did it…" Merry whispered.

"They did it," Edmund grinned madly.

As the mountain collapsed, the Eye slowly shrank into itself and all could feel the utter panic coming from it as Sauron screamed in denial. Halfway to the ground, it exploded like a grand bomb, destroying the fortress in mid-fall, the shockwave extending outward to crack the earth in every direction. The Black Gates shattered in various places as the cracks swept out, oddly avoiding the human armies and instead causing the Earth to open up under the orcs, swallowing many whole.

With one final scream of agony, the Dark Lord Sauron was no more.

"FRODO!" Merry cheered, his sword raised high. "FRODO!" Others took up the cry as it came to them that it was over, the war had been won. The few surviving orcs were running for their lives, their spirit clearly broken with Sauron gone. The joy was high but was tempered in a few hearts as the dust of the fortress' destruction faded to show Mount Doom erupting in a spectacular display of lava and fire.

"Lucy," Peter whispered, fearing they'd won the war but lost something far more important.

* * *

Lucy had no idea how they'd managed to escape the collapsing cave before it fell apart. Or how they'd gotten so far down the mountainside. What she knew was they could go no further, all three landing in a heap on a large risen outcropping of rock as the lava of Mount Doom swept down. It moved faster than Lucy expected (volcanoes hadn't been very common in Narnia), moving around the outcropping to cut off their path. She lay panting for breath, staring up at the dark sky with Sam and Fordo beside her.

"It's gone." Frodo stared upward with relief even as he felt shock. Sam nodded in reply. "Yes, Mr. Fordo. It's over now."

Lucy sighed. "Never thought it'd be like this…But…" she smiled despite herself. "It's good…To end with saving the world. Any world."

Frodo was looking up and chuckled. "I can see the Shire….The Brandywines River. Bag End." He laughed, actually laughed. "Gandalf's fireworks…the lights in the Party Tree."

"Rosie Cotton dancing," Sam whispered. "She had ribbons in her hair." He sighed. "If ever I was to marry someone, it would be her."

Lucy had to smile herself. "Cair Paravel. How it shone in the summer nights." She wiped her eyes, filling with tears from both the smoke and her emotions. "Mister Tumnus' home, that first time I arrived." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Home."

Frodo craned his head to look at them with a soft smile. "I'm glad you're here Samwise Gamgee, at the end of all things."

"And you both as well," Lucy smiled back. She lay back and sighed, staring up at the sky above. She saw something moving from above as her eyes closed, feeling wind flapping down toward her. Strange, she had always assumed Aslan would come as a lion, not as something flying. But it still felt right as she was lifted up and allowed herself to finally fade into darkness.

* * *

**Rounding the home stretch, folks. That's right, just one last chapter and this will finally be put to bed and promising it won't be as long a wait for the grand finale so thanks for hanging in there and still reviewing. **


	31. Celebrations and Farewells

**The Chronicles of the Fellowship**

**By Michael Weyer**

**Celebrations and Farewells**

* * *

Lucy was dreaming.

Or she was dead.

She was trying to figure out which was which as it was hard to tell. She was lying on a very soft bed covered in white silk covers that felt amazing. A light gown was over her body which felt better than it had ever since they had arrived in Middle Earth. She shuffled as she sat up, brushing her hair back. She became aware of a figure before her and looked to see the kind-hearted bearded man smiling at her as he puffed on a pipe.

"Gandalf," Lucy whispered.

"Welcome back," the wizard said in a light voice. "It is good to see you again, Lucy."

"You too, sir," Lucy said, automatically smiling at him. She looked around taking in the bright white room and sighed. "Did…did we do it?"

"You did," Gandalf confirmed. "Saur on is no more."

"Good," Lucy breathed. "Good…" She frowned as she looked around more. "Strange. I thought it would be…larger."

Gandalf frowned. "What would?"

"Heaven. I mean, all the stories I've heard and from what Aslan had said, it seemed it would be a bit…different."

Gandalf looked at her with puzzlement before his eyes brightened and he removed the pipe to start chuckling. "Oh…oh, my dear child, you're not dead."

Lucy blinked. "But…you're here."

"Ah, I see," the wizard chuckled again. "I can assure you, I am not dead either."

Lucy stared. "What?"

"A long and rather involved tale," the wizard continued. "But it is true."

"But…the lava," Lucy stammered. "How could we-"

"The Winglords," Gandalf replied. "They came to rescue you, Frodo and Sam on the cliffs of Mount Doom. Your siblings were quite overwhelmed by the sight but thankfully, the healers of Gondor were able to pull you through."

Lucy sat up straight. "They…they're here? All of them?"

"Oh yes," Gandalf said. "Just waiting for you to awaken." He rose to open the door, sticking his head out. "Come in."

The door opened and Lucy felt her heart leap as Susan entered. Her sister was clad in a lighter gown than usual, a hand instantly going to her mouth as her eyes misted over at the sight of Lucy. In seconds, they were in each other's arms, sobbing and laughing together. Peter and Edmund paused at the entryway to watch for a moment before also joining in.

"You are never…ever…leaving our sight again!" Susan choked out. "I don't care how old you are, I am _never_ letting you go!"

"That may be a bit problematic when I reach university age," Lucy managed to quip through the tears. She heard cries and had just broken away from her siblings when Merry and Pippin raced onto the bed to hug her as well. "Ah, Miss Lucy, so good to see you again!" Merry grinned.

"Aye!" Pippin added. "We have quite a tale to tell you! Ents, ghost warriors, Nazgul and more!"

"We'll save a pipe later."

"She don't smoke, Merry."

"Well, no better time to learn."

Lucy laughed as she looked up to see Gimli coming up, the dwarf's usual gruff face now in a wide smile. "Ah, lass," he softly said, hugging her quickly before pulling away. "Does my old heart good to see you safe and sound!"

"As does mine," Legolas announced as he entered with a light smile on his lips.

Lucy looked around suddenly. "Wait…where's Frodo? And Sam?"

"Frodo is still sleeping," Aragorn announced from the door. "Sam has been at his side constantly."

"Sounds about right," Lucy noted with a smile. She rubbed her stomach. "God, I'm starving. I can eat…anything."

"The kitchens of Gondor have been rather busy as of late," Aragorn noted. "But I'm sure they can spare a bit more for a heroine of your stature."

"Heroine?" Lucy shook her head. "Frodo's the true hero of this."

Peter shook his head. "You're not getting out of this with humility, Lucy. You went through thick and thin, Sam told us that. You deserve the credit for getting Frodo to the mountain."

"Sam helped a lot," Lucy said as she pulled the covers off to put her feet onto the floor, wincing a bit. Susan was there to help her stand up.

"We can talk about that later," Edmund said. "After a very, very long meal." The four siblings left as the others exchanged looks and warm smiles. "So it finally ends," Gimli sighed. "The Ring destroyed and our quest completed."

"Not quite yet," Gandalf pointed out. "Every great tale has a final epilogue, my friend."

* * *

The ceremony was quiet and private. That might seem strange for the Steward of Gondor after decades of service but there were more than enough funerals to fill the city's graveyards and churches. This one was quiet, however, with only a handful in attendance. The light of torches was the only illumination in the crypt, fitting the mood. Boromir stood by the large stone slab, his face expressionless as he read over the recently inscribed runes. He ran a gloved hand over the surface of the casket, his eyes dark as well as misty.

He felt movement and looked up to see Faramir coming next to him. His brother's face still showed fatigue but he had otherwise nearly fully recovered from his injuries. Like Boromir, he was clad in black, the traditional robes of mourning for Gondor. He rubbed his own hand across the casket and sighed. "So much I wished to say to him…Now I never shall."

"He knew," Boromir stated. "He knew at the end. How much you meant to him and to us all."

Faramir smiled softly. "I'm not burying the man he was…I'm choosing to remember the one we knew."

"Yes," Boromir said. "Yes, we can do that." The two had already discussed it and decided that as far as the people of Gondor were concerned, Denethor had fallen in defense of the city. While some might question his sanity at the end, no one would know how far he had gone. The few guards present had been sworn to secrecy and the other person behind the two wouldn't tell, either.

Edmund was quiet as he watched the two brothers mourn. He could only imagine their pain now. While he had hardly thought the best of Denethor, the man certainly hadn't deserved to die like that, lost in madness and fire. It reminded him of the worries of his own father in war, how it felt to think of him not coming home. Despite everything he'd been through here in Middle Earth, London wasn't that far away after all, especially in the pain of mourning.

The two brothers each took hold of the stone slab and pushed it into the slot in the wall. It slid in slowly before locking down. "Fare you well, Father," Boromir whispered. "May you find the peace and understanding in death that eluded you in life." He and Farmir bowed their heads and Edmund followed suit as they let Denethor join his ancestors.

The ceremony completed, the brothers stepped out of the dark tomb to the early morning light. Before them was Eowyn, clad in a lovely yellow gown, her hair braided, looking far more relaxed and beautiful than Edmund had ever seen her. She held her arms out to embrace Faramir tightly. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I know your pain too well."

"Thank you, my lady," Faramir said, hugging her tight. Edmund had to raise his eyebrows at that, looking to Boromir. "Since when have they been so close?"

Boromir shrugged. "Evidentially, they bonded while healing." He chuckled. "I remember telling her the two of them would get along splendidly."

"Be an interesting addition to the family," Edmund noted. "I understand Eomer is now the lord of Rohan."

Boromir nodded. "He is. Eowyn's standing is now..unsure. As is mine." At Edmund's frown, he elaborated. "The title of Steward will go to me as the eldest. However, the point of the Steward is to merely hold the throne for the King. Now that Aragorn is to be crowned…"

"I'm sure he'll find something for you," Edmund was quick to say. He smiled. "In fact, I heard him discussing that the areas near Mordor will need a guardian. I believe you would make a fine one."

Boromir smiled, clasping a hand to the younger man's shoulder. "Come, my friend. After a day of mourning, a good drink is called for."

"I'm still a bit young…"

"Then age will dominate the drink."

"Lead on."

* * *

"You're nervous."

"I am fine."

"No, you're nervous. Honestly, all you've been through, war, orcs, trolls, Nazgul and this is the first time I've seen you afraid."

"I am not afraid!"

Peter simply smiled as he looked over Aragorn. The rough and tumble Ranger he had met what felt like years ago was now gone. He was clad in a suit of armor, polished to a shine with a red silk cape behind him. It seemed at once ill-fitting and yet perfect for him as well. More importantly was the air Aragorn was taking about him. The air of a man finally about to accept that which he had long denied.

"There's no shame in it, your highness…" Peter began.

"Please do not call me that," Aragorn half-pleaded.

"You'd best get used to it," Peter pointed out with a smile. Seeing Aragorn look away, he sobered. "Listen…I know how you feel. The day of our coronation, I nearly vomited beforehand. And I was far younger than you yet I knew the responsibility on hand."

"You were not alone."

"And neither are you," Peter stated. "You have friends, allies, brothers in spirit. Gandalf will help and you know you can always turn to Boromir and Faramir." He put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "But if there is one thing I have learned from being here…from fighting at your side…is that you are able to handle what is to come. You led man to victory time and again. You can lead them from the throne."

Aragorn stared at him and smiled. "You truly are wise beyond your years, my young friend." He took a final look at himself in the mirror, adjusting his collar before taking a deep breath. "It's time."

Peter nodded and then suddenly moved to give the older man a quick embrace, breaking it quickly. "Good luck."

Aragorn smiled before turning to the door to begin the walk to his destiny.

* * *

The morning light shone brightly on a Gondor recovered in the last few months from the destruction wrought by Sauron's forces. The entire populace crowded the high level of the city, the massive courtyard packed solid. Soldiers stood in formations in their proud armor as banners whipped in the cool wind. The children had gathered, now clad in the best clothes available, Lucy and Susan in lovely gold and red dresses, Susan's hair in a nice braid. Peter and Edmund wore matching dark blue outfits much like the Gondor elite. Nearby, Eomer was clad in bright golden armor to show his new position as the King of Rohan while Eowyn wore a lovely yellow gown to go with her lush hair, standing near Faramir, who wore his own fine clothes. The hobbits felt a bit out of place in just their regular clothes but did their best to handle this.

Lucy smiled as she and Frodo exchanged glances. For the first time since they'd begun their long trek, the hobbit had a smile in his eyes, his spirit lifted now that the dark curse of the Ring was gone. Lucy felt much better herself, fully recovered from her ordeal although she knew the memories would haunt her for some time.

But that was the future. Today was about one man about to accept his role as the leader of a new land, a land ready to be healed from the agonies of the last few years. A contingent of Elves stood by with banners of various lands, Elrond clear among them. All eyes were fixed at the end of a carpeted walkway to the steps leading to the main palace. Gandalf's robes were as white and bright as ever while Boromir was clad in the outfit of the Steward, the emblem of Gondor about his neck. In his hands, he held a glorious silver crown with a pointed brow. His eyes swept over the assembly as he called out.

"People of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last! Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Númenor."

"Good Lord, and I thought we had too many titles," Edmund couldn't help muttering. He grunted as both Peter and Susan elbowed him sharply.

Boromir looked about as he held the crown up. " Shall he be king and rule the city of Minas Tirith?"

The resounding cheer was answer enough.

"People of Gondor," continued Boromir. "The lore masters tell that it was the custom of the old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if his father in the tomb where he laid. But since things now must be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, we have today brought hither from Rath Dínen the crown of Eärnur the last King, whose days passed in the time of our long fathers of old." He looked to Aragorn and smiled. "And now, at long, long last…It finds its rightful home."

He handed the crown to Gandalf as Aragorn knelt before them. It reminded the children of stories of old, of how a Pope would be around to crown a new King. With obvious pride, Gandalf held the crown high to let all see it, then lowered it upon Aragorn's brow. "Now come the days of the King. May they all be blessed."

Aragorn rose to his feet, shaky but managing to steel himself as he turned to face the crowd, who erupted into loud cheers and applause. He took it in, letting it die down before speaking in a surprisingly soft and heartfelt tone. "This day does not belong to one man but to us all. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share in the days of peace."

Cheers came up once more as from above, petals fell from the towers, covering the courtyard like snowflakes. Aragorn was singing a soft hymn in Elvish as he walked down the steps. He was soon exchanging firm handshakes and embraces with Boromir, Farmir, Eomer and Eowyn. He clapped a hand to Edmund's shoulder and there was laughter at the blush in his cheeks when both Susan and Lucy bestowed warm kisses upon his face. He and Legolas exchanged warm thanks in Elvish while Gimli just let his bright smile do all the talking.

Aragorn soon came to the elves, smiling at Elrond. His smile faded into disbelief as a banner was moved aside to show an exquisitely beautiful female elf. Her face was perfection with lush black hair and deep eyes, a silver bead across her forehead and a green dress accenting her form. From Aragorn's reaction, the Pensives knew this had to be Arwen and one sight was enough to make them understand why he loved her deeply. They stared at each other before he reached to brush her hair back and then stroke her face. Then, they were in each other's arms, sharing a long and deep kiss as more cheers broke out.

"The Irish now have competition in the celebration department," Edmund called to his siblings over the cheers. Aragorn finally came to the hobbits, who respectfully bowed. "My friends," Aragorn whispered with emotion. "You bow to no one."

With that, the King of Gondor knelt down before these four Halflings. After a moment of surprise, the crowd soon followed suit, elves, men, soldiers, nobles and commoners alike all kneeling in respect to the four young men who looked both embarrassed and deeply honored at the display. The Pensives were doing the same when Gandalf motioned for them to join the Hobbits. "You are as worthy as they of accolades."

"Really, we just helped as much as we could," Peter begged off.

Gandalf simply smiled as Aragorn turned to face the children and bowed to them. Soon, the crowd was following suit, the hobbits also bowing as the children stood to take it in, feeling much more like being home at Narnia now.

As the crowd stood, Edmund sighed. "Well, you know what this means, right?" His siblings looked at him in confusion. "We're in for yet another party."

"_For them, a celebration. But for you, young king, your time has come_."

The deep growling voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, easily heard by all in the courtyard. All eyes turned and there were gasps, but surprisingly not screams as from the doorways of the palace emerged a huge lion. His steps were easy, his golden mane shining brightly in the sun and while the power he exuded was clear, he also had a grace, a peace that set people at ease rather than cause panic.

"_Aslan!" _Lucy shrieked as she rushed forward, wrapping her small arms as tightly as she could around the lion's mane to hug tightly. Her brothers and sister were with her quickly, also hugging the lion tight, tears of joy in their eyes at him. The others in the courtyard were confused while Gandalf and Elrond had matching looks of wonder on their faces.

"Long has it been since the Lion-Mair walked upon our lands," Elrond stated.

Gandalf shook his head. "So many centuries and yet this is an event I never dreamed I would witness."

Aslan nodded to them. "_Well met, Gandalf Grayhame. And Lord Elrond, let the Lady Galadriel know I am pleased with her aid."_

"The lion is talking, Merry…"

"Shut up, Pip!"

Peter smiled broadly at Aslan. "So you sent us here. To help the Fellowship?"

"_Your presence did prevent some ills that were not needed_." The lion's eyes glanced over at Boromir in a way that created a brief chill in the man before feeling the warmth of Aslan's presence. "_But it was also to help you four. To prepare you for a new trial ahead."_

"Trial?" Edmund frowned. "What trial?"

"_Much has changed in Narnia since last you reigned, Edmund_," Aslan answered. "_A need for you has_ _been reborn as a young prince needs aid to take back what is rightfully his. It is a great task and one that will_ _challenge each of you_." His eyes swept over them, first to Lucy. "_You had to be tempered in physical_ _strength and spirit_…" He looked to Peter. "_In honor of others and relaxing your pride_." He glanced at Edmund. "_In your inner beliefs and how they can save those in need_." Finally, he looked to Susan. "_And to_ _accepting that age is not worthy without still respecting your past. All that was needed before you could return to Narnia."_

"Return?" Peter repeated. "You mean…now?"

Aslan nodded. "_Yes. Your time here is at an end. Your part in this quest complete but your old land calls to you once more."_

"I…." Lucy swallowed. They had all known this was coming, of course. They had believed Aslan responsible for bringing them here and that it was to help the Fellowship and they would have to leave eventually. But to have it still happening was a bit jarring.

"He is right," Gandalf said in a soft tone as he stepped forward. "This is a new age for our land. And as close as you have become to us all…Your world is not our own."

Peter took a breath. "Well…I guess at least this time, we have a chance to say goodbye first."

"_Exactly what I had intended_," Aslan warmly stated. "_Go on…Go_."

The children turned to see the Fellowship all gathered. They all seemed to understand, recognizing Aslan as something far beyond a mere animal and thus had to be obeyed. But the sadness was obvious as hugs and farewells were soon exchanged. "Be a good king," Peter told Aragorn. "And if you accept the help of others…you can be a great one."

Edmund clasped hands with both Boromir and Faramir. "It has been an experience…much like the Chinese curse…" He smiled. "But a good one in the end."

Boromir smiled back. "You saved my life and our brotherhood. We shall honor you always."

"Indeed," Faramir said as he exchanged a smile with Eowyn. "Edmund would be a fine name for a son, would it not?" The boy had to turn away before the tear in his eye became too obvious.

Susan accepted a warm hug from Gimli. "Ah, lass, I shall miss you," the dwarf grumbled. Susan nodded before looking at Legolas. She took his hand and sighed. "If we had more time…"

"It might not have worked," the elf pointed out.

"True," she agreed. Her lips turned upward. "We never did have a contest to see who was the better shot."

"I would imagine any of the battles settled that."

"Yes, you were a bit sloppy."

"Sloppy?" The elf frowned. "I beg your pardon but-" His words were silenced as Susan stepped up to kiss him lightly on the lips. She backed up to join her brothers as Legolas simply stared in disbelief, not noticing Gimli's warm laugh at his reaction.

Lucy hugged Sam first, then Frodo, not wanting to let go. "I would have loved to have seen this Shire of yours," she breathed, her eyes wet with tears.

"They would have loved you there," Sam warmly told her. He broke away first, wiping at his eyes. "Here, you better get along before poor Mr. Fordo starts bawling."

Frodo's face was in a beaming smile as he looked to Lucy. "Thank you. For everything."

"Thank you, too," Lucy said. "It's good to know I can still have a future beyond merely a queen."

"Lucy, I daresay wherever you go and whatever you do…you will always be a queen."

She laughed as she kissed his cheek and hugged him one more time. She moved down the line to huge the others one by one before finally joining her siblings. "Soldiers!" Boromir called out and as one, the armored warriors of Gondor lifted their spears to chant "HOO-RAH! HOO-RAH!"

A call from Eomer had the soldiers of the Rohirrim joining in the chant and the elves, all paying tribute to the young warriors. The Pensives took it in with honor, waving to the crowd.

"_Come,_" Aslan spoke as he turned to face the doorways leading to the castle. He opened his mouth and let out a mighty roar, the crowd instinctively stepping back at the sound and power. The doors burst open with a gust of wind but showed a shimmering blue field, like a pool of water standing on end. Aslan carefully paced to enter it, vanishing into the pool as it shimmered behind him. One by one, each of the children followed, each pausing first to take a final look around. Lucy, of course, was the last, sharing one last smile with Frodo.

As soon as she entered the portal, the doors slammed shut with a booming sound. A pair of soldiers carefully opened them but the pool was gone, simply the entrance to the palace.

"Where have they gone?" Pippin blurted.

"To their home, I guess," Merry shrugged.

"No," Gandalf corrected. "To their other home. This Narnia. It seems the Lion-Mair needs them for a new challenge there."

Frodo looked to the wizard. "Will we...ever see them again, Gandalf?"

The White Wizard shrugged. "Some things are beyond even my ken, Frodo. The work of the Great Lion is chief among them." That wry smile returned to his lips. "But if there is one thing I have learned in my long life and especially among you wonderful hobbits…it is to never be certain of what the future holds."

Aragorn took a breath before looking to the others. "Come. We shall lift glasses in celebration to them." He spoke louder to cover the courtyard. "We shall honor those who gave their lives for this day…and those from beyond our world yet are to be revered forever as brothers and sisters!"

The cheers at that were loud enough to be heard from miles as the sun fully rose upon a brand new day for the lands of Middle-Earth.

* * *

_There are lands within lands. There are worlds within worlds. World beyond worlds. One world is seeing a new beginning, coming out of darkness with aid from some who did not fall as they should have. Another world is about to feel that same change as beings of legend return to a land much different but ready to restore it to glory. _

_For Middle-Earth, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy were revered as Aragorn hoped. Statues erected as plays and poems were written extensively about them, their deeds, their strength and how they helped the Hobbit Frodo Baggins in his quest to destroy the One Ring. Those stories are even greater in the Shire as Sam, Merry and Pippin were too happy to give the Pensives credit for what happened and Frodo willing to shy from his role in things. Even as time went on and the Third Age ended, their role would never be forgotten._

_And what of them now? What of these four siblings and their return to Narnia? _

_Well…that is another story._

* * *

**Well, folks. It's done. I never thought it would take four years but it's finally completed. What began as a small lark grew into my most reviewed and popular story and in ways I didn't quite expect. Maybe it's fitting it's finally done before "The Hobbit" hits theaters although it's sad that the "Narnia" film franchise never lasted as long as it should have. I want to thank the hundreds of reviewers and people who favorite this, letting me know that they wanted this to continue. I hope this conclusion is what you expected and more than happy to finally let this journey end. It's been an amazing ride and thank you all for taking it and hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it all. Thank you so very much and you're also welcome. **

**Michael Weyer**


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